AMERICA  IN   THE  WAR 

n 

THE  VANGUARD  OF 
AMERICAN  VOLUNTEERS 


AMERICA   IN   THE  WAR 


THE  VANGUARD  OF 
AMERICAN  VOLUNTEERS 

IN  THE  FIGHTING  LINES 

AND  IN  HUMANITARIAN  SERVICE 

AUGUST,  1914— APRIL,  1917 


BY 

EDWIN    W.    MORSE 

AUTHOR   OF   "CAtJSES  AND  EFFECTS   IN   AMEBICAN   HMTOBT* 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1922 


COPYEIGHT,  1918,  BY 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


TO   THE  MEMORY 

O»  THOSE   HEROIC   AMERICAN   YOUTHS 

WHO   BY    THEIR   SELF-SACRIFICING   DETOTION 

POINTED   OUT   THE   PATH 

OF  DUTY  AND  HONOR 
TO  THEIR  FELLOW  COUNTRYMEN 


CONTENTS 

I.    INTRODUCTORY 9 

PART  I 

IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

II.    WILLIAM  THAW,  LATE  OF  YALE 1? 

III.  MORLAE'S  PICTURE  OF  THE  LEGION    ...  21 

IV.  HENRY  FARNSWORTH,  LOVER  OF  BOOKS    .  27 
V.    A  DESCENDANT  OF  CITIZEN  GENET    ...  37 

VI.    ALAN  SEEGER,  POET  OF  THE  LEGION      .   .       50 
VII.    VICTOR  CHAPMAN  AS  A  LEGIONNAIRB     .    .       66 

PART  II 

WITH  FAMOUS  BRITISH  REGIMENTS 
VIII.     JOHN  P.  POE,  OF  THE  FIRST  BLACK  WATCH      75 

IX.    DILLWYN  P.  STARR,  OF  THE  COLDSTREAM 

GUARDS 83 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

PART  IH 

THE  AMERICAN  RED   CROSS  IN  SERVIA 

MOT 

X.    DR.  RYAN  UNDER  FIRE  AT  BELGRADE    .       95 

XI.    FIGHTING  TYPHUS  AT  GEVGELIA   ....       99 

XII.    CONQUERING  THE  PLAGUE  OF  TYPHUS    .     106 

PART  IV 
AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

XIII.    RICHARD  NORTON'S  MOTOR  AMBULANCE 

CORPS 115 

XTV.    THE  WORK  OF  MR.  ANDREW'S  CORPS    .     129 
XV.    THE  DEATH  OF  RICHARD  HALL    ....     134 

XVI.    AROUND  BOIS-LE-PRETRE,  THE  "FOREST 

OF  DEATH" 139 

i 

XVII.  IN  THE  GREAT  BATTLE  FOR  VERDUN  .    .  148 

XVIII.  WILLIAM  BARBER'S  MEDAILLE  MILITAIRE  152 

XIX.  Two  YALE  MEN  AT  VERDUN 157 

XX.  HENRY  SUCKLEY  KILLED  BY  A  BOMB  .   .  161 

XXI.  A  PRINCETON  MAN'S  EXPERIENCES  .  165 


CONTENTS  ix 

PART  V 

RELIEF  WORK  IN  BELGIUM  AND  IN  NORTHERN  FRANCE 

PAQB 

XXII.    HERBERT  HOOVER  AND  "ENGINEERING 

EFFICIENCY" 175 

XXIII.  AMERICAN  VOLUNTEERS  IN  FIELD  SER- 

VICE   181 

XXIV.  AMERICAN  IDEALISM  AND  HUMOR      .    .     186 
XXV.    NARRATIVES  OF  PRINCETON  MEN     .    .     192 

XXVI.    EFFECT  ON  THE  AMERICANS  OF  GERMAN 

METHODS 200 

PART  VI 

AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

XXVTI.    THE  LAFAYETTE,  OR  AMERICAN,  ESCA- 

DRILLE      205 

XXVIII.    THE  FIRST  AMERICAN  AVIATOR  TO  FALL    217 
XXIX.    KIFFIN  ROCKWELL'S  LAST  COMBAT  .    .     225 

XXX.    NORMAN  PRINCE  KILLED  BY  AN  ACCI- 
DENT      231 

XXXI.    JAMES  MCCONNELL,  HISTORIAN     .    .    .     239 
XXXII.    GENET  IN  THE  AMERICAN  ESCADRILLE  .     249 


x  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

XXXIII.  MAJOR   LUFBERY,  ACE    OF    AMERICAN    257 

ACES 

XXXIV.  MAJOR  THAW,  PIONEER  AMERICAN  AVI- 

ATOR       269 


INDEX  OF  NAMES 279 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  American  Ambulance  Field  Service Frontispiece 

FACING    PAGE 

Members  of  the  Foreign  Legion  on  leave  in  Paris,  July 

7,  1915 38 

Doctor  Richard  P.  Strong 108 

Richard  Hall 136 

The  great  central  clothing  supply  station  in  Brussels     .    .  178 

Major  Raoul  Lufbery 266 


PUBLISHERS'  NOTE 

The  Publishers  desire  to  express  their  acknowledgment  of  the  cour- 
tesy of  various  other  publishing  houses  for  the  privilege  of  including 
selections  from  their  books  in  the  following  pages.  The  complete  list 
of  books  from  which  quotations  have  been  used,  which  will  be  of  value 
to  the  reader  who  may  wish  to  pursue  any  one  of  these  subjects  in  more 
detail,  is  as  follows: 

'  Letters  of  Henry  Weston  Farnsworth  of  the  Foreign  Legion."  (Pri- 
vately Printed.) 

"War  Letters  of  Edrnond  Genet."     (Charles  Scribner's  Sons.) 

"Victor  Chapman's  Letters  from  France."     (Macmillan  Co.) 

"The  War  Story  of  Dillwyn  Parrish  Starr."     (Privately  Printed.) 

"Letters  and  Diary  of  Alan  Seeger."     (Charles  Scribner's  Sons.) 

"Poems  of  Alan  Seeger."     (Charles  Scribner's  Sons.) 

"Harvard  Volunteers  in  Europe."     (Harvard  University  Press.) 

"Friends  of  France."     (Hough ton  Mifflin  Co.) 

"Ambulance  No.  10."    By  Leslie  Buswell.     (Houghton  Mifflin  Co.) 

"With  a  Military  Ambulance  in  France,  1914-'15."  By  Clarence  V.  S. 
Mitchell.  (Privately  Printed.) 

"Journal  from  Our  Legation  in  Belgium."  By  Hugh  Gibson.  (Double- 
day,  Page  &  Co.) 

"Fighting  Starvation  in  Belgium."  By  Vernon  Kellogg.  (Doubleday, 
Page  &  Co.) 

"Headquarters  Nights."  By  Vernon  Kellogg.  (Atlantic  Monthly 
Press.) 

"Flying  for  France."  By  James  R.  McConnell.  (Doubleday,  Page  & 
Co.) 

"With  the  French  Flying  Corps."  By  Carroll  D.  Winslow.  (Charles 
Scribner's  Sons.) 

"Norman  Prince."  Edited  by  George  F.  Babbitt.  (Houghton  Mifflin 
Co.) 

Selections  have  also  been  used  from  various  periodicals,  in  several 
of  which  original  publications  were  made,  and  to  which  credit  has  in- 
variably been  given  in  the  text. 


INTRODUCTORY 


INTRODUCTORY 

NO  historian  of  the  future  will  be  able  to 
ignore  the  important  part  which  that 
small  but  heroic  band,  the  Vanguard  of  Ameri- 
can Volunteers,  played  in  the  great  war  to 
make  the  world  safe  for  democracy.  For  it 
was  they  who  were  the  voluntary  leaders  along 
the  path  which  the  people  and  the  government 
of  the  United  States,  after  more  than  two  years 
and  a  hah*  of  hesitation,  were  to  follow;  and  it 
was  they  who,  by  the  inspiring  example  of  their 
self-sacrificing  devotion  to  the  cause  of  the 
Allies,  were  largely  instrumental  in  creating 
and  in  crystallizing  public  opinion  among  their 
own  countrymen  in  favor  of  the  entrance  of 
the  United  States  into  the  war. 

A  dozen  volumes  such  as  this  would  not 
suffice  to  give  even  the  barest  outlines  of  the 
records  and  achievements  of  these  American 
Volunteers.  All  that  can  be  attempted  here 
is  to  gather  together  a  few  typical  instances  of 


4  INTRODUCTORY 

their  devotion  to  a  high  sense  of  duty  in  what- 
ever branches  of  the  service  they  found  them- 
selves. Some  of  them  enlisted  under  the  in- 
spiring leadership  of  Mr.  Hoover  for  relief  work 
in  stricken  Belgium  and  in  devastated  northern 
France;  others,  under  the  flag  of  the  American 
Red  Cross,  carried  surgical  and  medical  help 
to  invaded  and  plague-stricken  Servia  and  to 
other  points;  others  became  drivers  of  ambu- 
lances over  dangerous  roads  from  the  pastes  de 
secours  to  hospitals  in  the  rear;  still  others, 
eager  to  make  their  influence  felt  more  directly, 
joined  the  Foreign  Legion  of  France  or  other 
French  or  British  regiments;  while  a  handful 
of  the  more  daring  spirits  entered  the  French 
flying  corps  and  formed  the  nucleus  of  what 
later  was  to  become  the  Lafayette  Escadrille. 

Two  aspects  of  this  exodus  of  hundreds  of 
young  Americans  to  the  service  of  the  Allies 
are  of  especial  interest — first,  the  motives  that 
lay  behind  their  action,  and,  secondly,  the 
effects  of  their  participation  in  the  great  con- 
flict. A  deep  humanitarian  impulse  gave  quick 
response  to  Mr.  Hoover's  appeal  for  Americans 
to  go  to  the  assistance  of  the  Belgians,  and  was 


INTRODUCTORY  5 

of  course  the  force  behind  all  of  the  activities 
of  the  American  Red  Cross.  A  pure  love  of 
adventure,  however,  an  irresistible  desire  to 
take  some  active  part  in  the  greatest  war  in 
the  history  of  the  world,  was  without  doubt  a 
compelling  motive  in  many  instances.  It  was 
with  this  desire  that  scores  of  young  college 
men  became  ambulance  drivers  in  France. 
Many  of  them,  however,  after  witnessing  the 
effects  of  the  German  methods  of  waging  war 
and  the  heroic  sacrifices  which  the  French  were 
making  in  defense  of  their  fair  land,  sought  en- 
trance into  branches  of  the  French  or  English 
service  where  they  could  make  their  presence 
felt  to  greater  military  advantage.  It  was 
largely,  no  doubt,  with  the  same  desire  to  take 
active  part  in  a  great  adventure  that  young 
Americans  by  the  hundreds,  from  all  parts  of 
the  United  States,  swarmed  across  the  Canadian 
border  to  join  the  regiments  forming  and  train- 
ing in  the  early  months  of  the  war. 

The  figures,  however,  that  stand  out  from  all 
the  rest  are  those  of  the  small  group  of  young 
Americans  who,  through  love  of  France  and 
admiration  for  the  French,  or  through  devotioi 


6  INTRODUCTORY 

to  the  high  ideals  of  freedom  and  liberty  for 
which  both  France  and  England  were  pouring 
out  their  best  blood,  gave  their  services  and, 
in  not  a  few  instances,  made  the  supreme  sacri- 
fice of  even  life  itself,  as  a  measure  of  their  de- 
votion. It  is  true  that  the  numbers  of  these 
young  Americans  were  few,  and  the  effect  of 
their  presence  in  the  firing-lines  was,  in  a  mili- 
tary sense,  insignificant  and  altogether  negligi- 
ble. But  the  influence  of  their  spirit  and  of 
their  example  upon  public  opinion  in  the 
United  States  in  the  first  two  years  and  a  hah* 
of  the  war  was  beyond  all  calculation.  Scorn- 
ing neutrality  and  regarding  it  as  the  refuge  of 
the  unintelligent,  the  irresolute  and  the  timid 
among  their  own  countrymen,  they  threw  them- 
selves into  the  conflict  on  the  side  of  the  Allies 
with  heart  and  soul  aflame,  as  if  determined  to 
prove  that  there  were  at  least  a  few  Americans 
who  from  the  very  beginning  understood  to  the 
full  the  moral  as  well  as  the  political  issues  in- 
volved in  the  mighty  struggle.  And,  although 
they  were  only  a  handful,  they  succeeded  by 
their  zeal  and  their  energy  in  keeping  alive 
in  the  breasts  of  the  Frenchmen  and  English- 


INTRODUCTORY  7 

men  by  the  side  of  whom  they  were  fighting 
the  hope  that  some  day  the  government  and 
the  people  of  the  United  States  would  see  the 
causes  and  the  possible  consequences  of  the 
great  conflict  eye  to  eye  with  their  own  view 
of  the  issues  involved.  One  has  only  to  read 
the  address  of  the  French  surgeon-in-chief  at 
the  burial  of  that  gallant  Dartmouth  boy, 
Richard  Hall,  or  the  letter  of  the  colonel  com- 
manding the  Coldstream  Guards  to  the  par- 
ents of  Lieutenant  Dillwyn  Starr,  to  see  this 
hope  reflected. 

The  great  majority  of  these  young  volun- 
teers were  college-bred  men  of  the  best  Ameri- 
can type.  The  old  law  of  noblesse  oblige  pointed 
the  way  to  duty  unerringly,  and  they  followed 
it  unhesitatingly.  Only  a  few  days  before  the 
United  States  Government  declared  war  against 
Germany,  in  April,  1917,  there  were  no  fewer 
than  533  graduates  and  undergraduates  of  Har- 
vard, for  example,  in  some  branch  of  service  in 
Europe,  either  on  the  firing-lines,  or  in  Belgium, 
or  in  connection  with  hospital  and  ambulance 
work;  and  the  deaths  of  Harvard  men  in  service 
up  to  that  time  had  numbered  twenty-seven. 


8  INTRODUCTORY 

Many  other  universities  and  colleges,  from  Bow- 
doin  in  the  East  to  Stanford  in  the  West,  were 
equally  well  represented  in  proportion  to  their 
numbers.  These  were  the  young  men  who  by 
faithful  service  were  winning  what  Owen  Wister, 
in  his  preface  to  "The  Aftermath  of  Battle,'* 
calls  "the  spurs  of  moral  knighthood."  "And 
this  host — for  host  it  is — of  Americans,"  added 
Mr.  Wister,  "thus  dedicated  to  service  in  the 
Great  Convulsion,  helps  to  remove  the  stain 
which  was  cast  over  all  Americans  when  we 
were  invited  to  be  neutral  in  our  opinions  while 
Democracy  in  Europe  was  being  strangled  to 
death." 

The  presence  in  the  danger  zones  of  these 
American  volunteers  and  the  occasional  death 
of  one  of  them  in  the  performance  of  duty, 
made  a  deep  impression  in  France  as  well  as  in 
America.  The  people  of  France,  as  Mr.  Chap- 
man points  out  in  his  preface  to  his  son  Victor's 
"Letters,"  were  "living  in  a  state  of  sacrificial 
enthusiasm  for  which  history  shows  no  parallel. 
Their  gratitude  to  those  who  espoused  their 
cause  was  such  as  to  magnify  and  exalt  hero- 
«m."  The  prime  minister  of  France,  M.  Briand, 


INTRODUCTORY  9 

spoke  of  young  Chapman,  who  was  the  first  of 
the  American  aviators  to  fall  in  battle  with  an 
enemy  air-ship,  as  "the  living  symbol  of  Ameri- 
can idealism,"  adding:  "France  will  never  forget 
this  new  comradeship,  this  evidence  of  a  devo- 
tion to  a  common  ideal." 

No  one  gave  more  effective  expression  to  this 
"new  comradeship"  than  Alan  Seeger,  whose 
"Poems,"  published  in  1916,  enabled  thousands 
of  readers  to  find  their  own  souls  in  the  reflec- 
tion of  that  of  the  Poet  of  the  Foreign  Legion, 

Who,  not  unmindful  of  the  antique  debt, 
Came  back  the  generous  path  of  Lafayette, 

and  gallantly  kept  his  "rendezvous  with  death" 
on  the  blood-soaked  fields  of  Belloy-en-Santerre. 


PART  I 
IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 


II 

WILLIAM  THAW,  LATE  OF  YALE 

TO  the  young  Americans  with  French  sym- 
pathies who,  at  the  beginning  of  the  war, 
were  eager  to  get  into  the  real  fighting  as 
quickly  as  possible,  the  Foreign  Legion  offered 
the  readiest  means.  Every  able-bodied  man 
who  was  willing  to  fight  for  France  was  wel- 
comed as  a  brother  to  its  ranks,  whatever  his 
nationality  and  without  regard  to  his  record. 
For  scores  of  years  the  Legion  had  been  famous, 
even  notorious,  as  the  refuge  of  soldiers  of  for- 
tune, criminals,  scapegraces  and  adventurers  of 
all  types — of  all  the  outcasts  of  society  in  fact. 
This  unenviable  reputation  was  no  obstacle, 
however,  in  the  way  of  the  young  Americans 
who  were  anxious  to  get  into  the  fighting-lines 
by  the  easiest  and  quickest  means  possible. 
They  were  willing  to  take  their  chances. 

Their  experiences   varied   because  the   regi- 
ments differed  greatly  in  the  character  of  the 

men.    To  Farnsworth  and  Morlae  they  were 

is 


14  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

picturesque  and  interesting.  Chapman  found 
himself  among  "the  scum  of  the  Paris  streets," 
and  doubted  if  six  months'  training  would  make 
them  fit  for  active  service.  That  some  of  the 
regiments  failed  to  conform  in  character  to  the 
traditions  of  the  Legion  may  easily  have  been 
the  case,  if  Genet  was  correct  in  his  statement 
of  January,  1916,  that  there  had  been  about 
48,000  volunteers  enrolled  in  that  body  since 
the  war  began,  of  wThom  there  were  then  only 
about  5,000  left  fit  for  service. 

One  of  the  first  of  the  American  youths  to 
join  this  famous  organization  was  William 
Thaw,  of  Pittsburgh,  who  had  been  a  member 
of  the  class  of  1915  at  Yale.  As  was  the  case 
with  several  other  Americans,  Thaw  was  des- 
tined to  win  renown  not  in  the  Legion  but  in 
the  flying  corps.  His  experiences  in  the  Legion, 
however,  were  described  in  his  letters  to  his 
family,  which  were  printed  in  the  Yale  Alumni 
Weekly,  in  such  a  racy,  breezy  manner  and  with 
such  a  genuinely  American  sense  of  boyish 
humor,  that  some  selections  from  them  are  well 
worth  quoting.  Incidentally  it  may  be  noted 
that  at  the  very  beginning,  when  practically 


WILLIAM  THAW,  LATE  OF  YALE          15 

all  the  rest  of  the  world  was  in  a  state  of  more 
or  less  bewildered  amazement  at  what  was 
taking  place  in  Belgium,  this  Yale  youth  grasped 
the  essential,  fundamental  fact  that  this  was 
to  be  a  world-conflict  between  civilization  and 
barbarism. 

Under  date  of  August  30,  1914,  Thaw  wrote: 

I  am  going  to  take  a  part,  however  small, 
in  the  greatest  and  probably  last,  war  in  his- 
tory, which  has  apparently  developed  into  a 
fight  of  civilization  against  barbarism.  That 
last  reason  may  sound  a  bit  grand  and  dramatic, 
but  you  would  quite  agree  if  you  could  hear  the 
tales  of  French,  Belgian  and  English  soldiers 
who  have  come  back  here  from  the  front.  .  .  . 

Talk  about  your  college  education,  it  isn't 
in  it  with  what  a  fellow  can  learn  being  thrown 
in  with  a  bunch  of  men  like  this !  There  are 
about  1200  here  (we  sleep  on  straw  on  the  floor 
of  the  Ecole  Professionel  pour  Jeunes  Filles) 
and  in  our  section  (we  sleep  and  drill  by  sec- 
tions) there  is  some  mixture,  including  a  Colum- 
bia Professor  (called  "Shorty"),  an  old  tutor 
who  has  numerous  Ph.D.s,  M.A.s,  etc.,  a 
preacher  from  Georgia,  a  pro.  gambler  from 
Missouri,  a  former  light-weight  second  rater, 
two  dusky  gentlemen,  one  from  Louisiana  and 
the  other  from  Ceylon,  a  couple  of  hard  guys 
from  the  Gopher  Gang  of  lower  N.  Y.,  a  Swede, 
a  Norwegian,  a  number  of  Poles,  Braeilians, 


16  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

Belgians,  etc.  So  you  see  it's  some  bunch !  I 
sleep  between  the  prize-fighter  and  a  chap  who 
used  to  work  for  the  Curtiss  Co.  As  for  the 
daily  routine  it  reminds  me  of  Hill  School,  and 
then  some;  only  instead  of  getting  demerits 
for  being  naughty,  you  get  short  rations  and 
prison. 

Early  in  September  the  detachment  was 
transferred  to  Toulouse,  where  it  was  joined  by 
500  veterans  from  the  Legion  in  Africa.  Nearly 
a  month  was  spent  in  Toulouse  in  drilling  and 
hardening  the  men  for  front-line  work.  Thaw 
was  made  a  student-corporal.  He  wrote: 

It  is  not  a  very  exalted  position,  as  you  com- 
mand only  seven  men.  But  it  was  a  starter, 
and  meant  four  cents  a  day  instead  of  one, 
better  shoes,  and  the  power  to  put  the  guys  you 
don't  like  in  prison  for  four  days  instead  of 
having  to  lick  them  personally !  But  of  course 
now  that  we'll  be  with  veterans  there  will  have 
to  be  a  lot  of  officers  killed  off  before  I  get  an- 
other chance.  But  it  was  a  rare  sight  to  see 
me  drilling  the  awkward  squad  to  which  I  was 
assigned.  (A  somewhat  doubtful  compliment 
to  my  abilities  as  a  commander.)  And  that 
squad  was  some  awkward.  To  add  to  my  diffi- 
culties there  were  in  it  a  chap  from  Flanders 
who  spoke  neither  French  nor  English,  a  Rus- 
sian who  didn't  speak  French,  a  Frenchman 


WILLIAM  THAW,  LATE  OF  YALE          17 

who  didn't  speak  English  and  some  Americans 
and  English  with  various  linguistic  accomplish- 
ments. It  took  me  two  hours  to  get  them  to 
obey  about  twenty  simple  commands  with  any 
sort  of  precision.  But  it  was  a  lot  of  fun,  even 
if  I  did  lose  half  my  voice  and  about  3  kilos. 

Finally,  early  in  October,  Thaw's  company 
was  moved  north  to  Camp  de  Mailly,  Chalons- 
sur-Marne.  This  paragraph  from  a  letter  dated 
October  4  indicates  the  nature  of  Thaw's  work 
as  a  scout: 

Yesterday  I  got  a  new  job,  being  one  of  the 
two  scouts  or  eclaireurs  de  marche,  for  our  squad 
of  17  men.  The  other  is  a  big  Servian,  who  is 
beside  me  in  ranks  and  who  was  wounded  twice 
in  the  Balkan  War.  It's  some  job;  you  have 
to  beat  it  off  through  the  country,  when  your 
company  is  on  the  march,  walk  about  three 
kilometres  over  rough  ground,  and,  as  far  as 
I  can  see,  get  shot  at,  which  gallant  deed  proves 
that  the  enemy  are  near  and  warns  your  com- 
rades. The  sergeant  (he's  always  kidding  us) 
consoled  us  by  saying  that  he  chose  only  men 
of  great  "sang  froid"  and  skill  with  the  rifle,  and 
only  the  best  marchers,  whereupon  I  offered  him 
a  cigarette. 

The  cross-country  "military  marches,"  each 
man  carrying  the  official  equipment  weighing 


18  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

120  pounds,*  were  severe  tests  of  the  endurance 
of  the  men: 

I  was  agreeably  surprised  to  find  that  I  got 
less  tired  than  most,  and  didn't  even  mind  carry- 
ing an  extra  gun  the  last  five  kilos.  It's  just 
a  matter  of  getting  used  to  it;  but,  take  it  from 
me,  in  comparison  a  game  of  football  is  almost 
a  joke,  for  you  don't  get  a  rest  every  fifteen 
minutes,  and  a  game  doesn't  last  seven  hours. 

By  the  middle  of  October  Thaw's  battalion 
was  in  the  front-line  trenches.  In  the  mean- 
time his  skill  with  the  rifle  had  won  for  him  pro- 
motion to  soldier  of  the  first  class,  with  a  red 
stripe  on  his  sleeve.  He  found  the  life  monoto- 
nous and  disappointing,  however.  Under  date 
of  November  27  he  wrote: 


War  is  wretched  and  quite  uninteresting*. 
Wish  I  were  back  dodging  street  cars  on  Broad- 
way for  excitement.  Am  that  tired  of  being 
shot  at !  Got  hit  in  the  cap  and  bayonet — Do 
you  mind?  Have  been  in  the  trenches  now 
nearly  six  weeks.  Haven't  washed  for  twenty 
days.  Expect  to  get  a  ten  days'  rest  after  an- 
other two  weeks. 

*  This  weight  was  confirmed  in  a  later  letter  from  Thaw. 


WILLIAM  THAW,  LATE  OF  YALE          19 

A  month  later  he  summarized  his  experiences 
thus: 

We  didn't  make  an  attack  and  were  attacked 
only  once,  and  I  doubt  that,  for  I  didn't  see  any 
Germans.  I  didn't  even  shoot  when  they  gave 
the  order  "fire  at  will,"  and  when  I  told  the 
excited,  spluttering  little  sergeant  that  there 
was  nothing  to  shoot  at  (it  was  very  dark)  he 
said,  shoot  anyway,  which  I  did  at  the  German 
trenches  800  metres  away,  for  by  that  time 
they  were  replying,  in  astonishment,  no  doubt, 
to  our  fire,  and  their  bullets  were  snipping 
through  the  trees  at  us — which  is  my  idea  of 
some  battle. 

The  humorous  side  of  one  episode  appealed 
strongly  to  this  American  youth: 

Another  very  exciting  experience,  of  which 
I'd  nearly  forgotten  to  tell  you,  was  when  one 
night  we  received  "sure  dope"  that  there  would 
be  an  attack,  six  of  us,  under  the  American 
corporal,  Morlae,  went  out  as  an  advance 
guard  into  an  open  trench  100  metres  in  front 
of  the  main  line,  the  idea  being  that  while  the 
Germans  were  killing  us  off  the  others  would 
be  warned  and  have  time  to  get  ready.  It  was 
a  peachy  idea,  but  "les  Boches"  never  showed 
up,  and  the  "exciting  experience"  consisted  in 
standing  for  thirteen  hours  in  three  inches  of 
water  and  nearly  dying  of  fright  when  a  dozen 


20  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

cows  came  browsing  across  the  meadows  in  per- 
fect skirmish  order.  "C'est  terrible,  la  guerre," 
as  we  Frenchmen  say." 

A  month  later  Thaw  was  transferred  at  his 
request  to  the  French  aviation  service. 


Ill 

MORLAE'S  PICTURE  OF  THE  LEGION 

TWO  days  after  the  war  began  E.  Morlae, 
the  American  corporal  referred  to  by 
Thaw,  left  Los  Angeles,  California,  for  Paris. 
Born  in  California,  Morlae  was  of  French  par- 
entage, his  father  having  served  in  the  French 
army  in  the  War  of  1870.  On  arriving  in  Paris 
he  enlisted  in  the  Foreign  Legion,  and  his 
father's  record,  with  his  general  familiarity  with 
military  matters  and  his  command  of  French, 
soon  secured  for  him  promotion  to  the  rank  of 
corporal.  After  serving  in  the  Legion  for  more 
than  a  year  he  returned  to  the  United  States, 
wounded  in  the  neck  and  knee. 

Morlae  contributed  to  the  Atlantic  Monthly 
for  March,  1916,  a  description  of  the  Legion's 
share  in  the  battle  of  Champagne,  the  last  week 
in  the  previous  September,  which  was  remarka- 
ble for  its  vividness  and  its  graphic  power. 
The  scene  of  that  portion  of  the  battle  which 

Morlae  described  was  from  Souain  to  Navarin, 

21 


22  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

where  lay  the  immediate  objective  of  the  at- 
tack, the  little  fort  of  Navarin.  This  objective 
was  attained,  but  at  a  heavy  cost  of  lives.  Of 
Morlae's  section  of  sixty  men  only  twelve  sur- 
vived, several  of  those  being  severely  wounded. 
In  the  following  paragraph  from  his  Atlantic 
Monthly  paper,  Morlae  described  the  honors 
that  were  paid  to  the  Legion  before  and  after 
this  battle,  and  gave  the  reasons  therefor: 

One  day  during  the  latter  part  of  August, 
1915,  my  regiment,  the  %me.  Etranger  (Foreign 
Legion),  passed  in  review  before  the  President 
of  the  French  Republic  and  the  Commander-in- 
chief  of  her  armies,  General  Joffre.  On  that 
day  after  twelve  months  of  fighting,  the  regi- 
ment was  presented  by  President  Poincare  with 
a  battle-flag.  The  occasion  marked  the  admis- 
sion of  the  Legion  Etrangere  to  equal  footing 
with  regiments  of  the  line.  Two  months  later 
— it  was  October  28 — the  remnants  of  this  regi- 
ment were  paraded  through  the  streets  of  Paris, 
and,  with  all  military  honors,  this  same  battle- 
flag  was  taken  across  the  Seine  to  the  Hotel  des 
Invalides.  There  it  was  decorated  with  the 
Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  and,  with  reverent 
ceremony,  was  placed  between  the  flag  of  the 
cuirassiers  who  died  at  Reichshofen  and  the 
equally  famous  standard  which  the  Garibaldians 
bore  in  1870-71.  The  flag  lives  on.  The  regi- 
ment has  ceased  to  exist. 


MORLAE'S  PICTURE  OF  THE  LEGION      23 

To  the  men  of  the  Legion,  which  survived 
this  blow  as  it  had  others,  these  honors,  as 
Morlae  points  out,  meant  much.  For  they 
were  no  longer  to  be  classed  as  pariahs  and  out- 
casts, as  they  had  always  been.  Of  the  per- 
sonnel of  the  Legion  and  of  the  reasons  for  the 
devotion  of  the  Legionnaires  to  France,  Morlae 
said: 

Of  the  Legion  I  can  tell  you  at  first  hand.  It 
is  a  story  of  adventurers,  of  criminals,  of  fugi- 
tives from  justice.  Some  of  them  are  drunkards, 
some  thieves;  and  some  with  the  mark  of  Cain 
upon  them  find  others  to  keep  them  company. 
They  are  men  I  knew  the  worst  of.  And  yet 
I  am  proud  of  them — proud  of  having  been  one 
of  them;  very  proud  of  having  commanded  some 
of  them. 

It  is  all  natural  enough.  Most  men  who 
had  come  to  know  them  as  I  have  would  feel  as 
I  do.  You  must  reckon  the  good  with  the  evil. 
You  must  remember  their  comradeship,,  their 
esprit  de  corps,  their  pathetic  eagerness  to  serve 
France,  the  sole  country  which  had  offered  them 
asylum,  the  country  which  had  shown  them 
confidence,  mothered  them  and  placed  them  on 
an  equal  footing  with  her  own  song.  These 
things  mean  something  to  a  man  who  has  led 
the  life  of  an  outcast,  and  the  Legionnaires  have 
proved  their  loyalty  to  France  many  times 
over. 


24  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

Im  my  own  section  there  were  men  of  all 
races  and  all  nationalities.  There  were  Russians 
and  Turks,  an  Anamite  and  a  Hindu.  There 
were  Frenchmen  from  God  knows  where.  There 
was  a  German,  God  only  knows  why.  There 
were  Bulgars,  Servians,  Greeks,  Negroes,  an 
Italian  and  a  Fiji  Islander,  fresh  from  an  Oxford 
education, — a  silent  man  of  whom  it  was  whis- 
pered that  he  had  once  been  an  archbishop,^— 
three  Arabians  and  a  handful  of  Americans  who 
cared  little  for  the  quiet  life. 

Of  this  group  of  Americans  Morlae  wrote  as 
follows : 

But  even  the  Americans  were  not  all  of  one 
stripe.  J.  J.  Carey  had  been  a  newspaper 
artist,  and  Bob  Scanlon,  a  burly  negro,  an  artist 
with  his  fist  in  the  squared  ring.  Alan  Seeger 
had  something  of  the  poet  in  him.  Dennis 
Dowd  was  a  lawyer;  Edwin  Boligny  a  lovable 
adventurer.  There  was  D.  W.  King,  the  sprig 
of  a  well-known  family.  William  Thaw,  of 
Pittsburgh,  started  with  us,  though  he  joined 
the  Flying  Corps  later  on.  Then  there  were 
James  Bach,  of  New  York,  B.  S.  Hall,  who  hailed 
from  Kentucky,  Professor  Ohlinger,  of  Colum- 
bia, Phelizot,  who  had  shot  enough  big  game  in 
Africa  to  feed  the  regiment.  There  were  Del- 
penche  and  Capdevielle,  and  little  Trinkard, 
from  New  York.  Bob  Subiron  came,  I  im- 
agine, from  the  States  in  general,  for  he  had 
been  a  professional  automobile  racer.  The 


MORLAE'S  PICTURE  OF  THE  LEGION      25 

Rockville  brothers,  journalists,  signed  on  from 
Georgia;  and  last,  though  far  from  least,  was 
Friedrich  Wilhelm  Zinn,  from  Battle  Creek, 
Michigan. 

The  King  referred  to  by  Morlae  was  David 
W.  King,  a  Harvard  undergraduate  of  the  class 
of  1916,  whom  Victor  Chapman  found  in  July, 
1915,  in  a  village  in  Alsace  "rolling  in  luxuries," 
"smoking  imported  cigarettes  and  refusing  to 
make  a  row  even  when  the  bill  was  three  times 
what  it  should  be." 

In  a  letter  which  was  reprinted  in  the  Harvard 
Alumni  Bulletin,  King  described  how  Zinn, 
who  had  become  his  best  friend,  was  wounded 
a  few  months  later: 

The  night  of  the  8th  [of  October,  1915]  we 
came  up  here.  It's  the  deuce  of  a  place.  We 
work  on  the  front  line  all  night,  and  they  amuse 
themselves  by  dropping  shrapnel  and  "mar- 
mites"  into  the  working  parties.  During  the 
day  we  are  supposed  to  rest,  but  there  are  bat- 
teries all  around  us,  and  the  consequence  is 
that  the  Boches  are  always  feeling  around  for 
them,  and  the  guns  themselves  make  such  a 
fiendish  racket  we  are  almost  deaf.  To  make 
things  more  cheerful,  as  we  were  going  to  work 
•a  shell  burst  near  my  best  friend  (F.  W.  Zinn) 
who  was  walking  just  ahead  of  me  and  he  got 


26  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

a  piece  in  the  side.  It  did  not  penetrate,  but 
it  made  a  bad  contusion  just  under  his  heart, 
and  I  am  afraid  it  smashed  some  ribs.  There 
were  no  Red  Cross  workers  near  by,  so  I  had  to 
take  him  back.  He  could  hardly  breathe  when 
I  got  him  to  the  "poste  de  secours."  Lucky 
devil!  He  will  get  a  month's  rest,  but  I  miss 
him  like  anything,  as  friends  are  pretty  scarce 
around  here. 


IV 

HENRY  FARNSWORTH,  LOVER  OF  BOOKS 

ONE  young  American  volunteer  in  the 
Foreign  Legion  was  killed  in  the  battle 
for  the  Fortin  de  Navarin  at  the  end  of  Sep- 
tember, 1915.  He  was  Henry  Weston  Farns- 
worth,  of  Dedham,  Massachusetts,  a  graduate 
of  Groton  and  of  Harvard,  of  the  class  of  1912. 
His  tastes  were  bookish,  musical  and  artistic. 
Burton,  Dostoievski,  Tolstoi,  Gogol,  Ibsen  and 
Balzac  were  favorites  with  him,  although  his 
studies  in  literature  covered  a  much  wider 
field — the  English  classics  as  well  as  the  modern 
continental  writers.  After  he  was  graduated 
he  spent  the  summer  in  Europe;  visiting  Vienna, 
Budapesth,  Constantinople,  Odessa,  Moscow, 
and  St.  Petersburg,  revelling  in  the  historical 
associations,  the  art  collections  and  the  music 
of  these  cities,  and  making  odd  friends  here  and 
there,  as  was  his  wont,  and  studying  the  people. 
His  curiosity  was  insatiable,  particularly  as 
regards  the  Oriental  peoples  and  the  Russians. 

87 


28  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

When  the  European  War  broke  out  Farns- 
worth  was  in  the  city  of  Mexico,  whither  he  had 
gone  when  the  United  States  Government  sent 
troops  to  Vera  Cruz.  In  the  meantime  he  had 
had  some  experience  as  a  newspaper  correspon- 
dent and  reporter  for  the  Providence  Journal 
and  had  published  a  book,  "The  Log  of  a 
Would-be  War  Correspondent,"  describing  his 
experiences  and  observations  in  the  Balkan 
War  in  the  autumn  of  1912,  the  fascination  of 
which  he  could  not  resist.  Returning  home 
from  Mexico,  he  sailed  for  England  in  October, 
1914,  with  no  intention  of  taking  active  part  in 
the  war,  but  with  the  desire  to  become  an  on- 
looker, in  the  hope  that  he  might  write  some- 
thing about  the  great  conflict  that  would  be 
worth  while.  The  air  of  London  and  Paris  was 
full  of  military  projects,  and  he  was  tempted  in 
various  directions.  Finally,  after  a  period  of 
hesitation  and  uncertainty,  he  entered  the  For- 
eign Legion  early  in  January. 

From  the  "Letters  of  Henry  Weston  Farns- 
worth  of  the  Foreign  Legion"  to  the  members 
of  his  family,  which  have  been  privately  printed 
by  his  father,  William  Farnsworth,  it  is  possible 
to  follow  him  during  the  nine  succeeding  months. 


HENRY  FARNSWORTH,  LOVER  OF  BOOKS     29 

He  was  under  no  illusions  about  the  Germans. 
"Mad  with  envy,"  he  writes,  "is  how  they 
strike  me.  At  the  expression  '  English  Channel ' 
they  froth  at  the  mouth."  And  his  admiration 
for  their  Gallic  adversaries  was  deep.  "Noth- 
ing," he  says,  "can  over-express  the  quiet  for- 
titude of  the  French  people." 

Farnsworth,  who,  as  we  have  seen,  had  a 
decided  taste  for  odd  characters,  found  his 
associates  in  his  company  of  the  Legion  inter- 
esting studies.  Under  the  date  of  January  9, 
1915,  he  wrote: 

In  the  first  place  there  is  no  tough  element 
at  all.  Many  of  the  men  are  educated,  and  the 
very  lowest  is  of  the  high  class  workman  type. 
In  my  room,  for  instance,  there  are  "Le  Petit 
Pere"  Uhlin,  an  old  Alsatian,  who  has  already 
served  fourteen  years  in  the  Legion  in  China 
and  Morocco;  the  Corporal  Lebrun,  a  Socialist 
well  known  in  his  own  district;  Engler,  a  Swiss 
cotton-broker  from  Havre;  Donald  Campbell,  a 
newspaper  man  and  short  story  writer,  who  will 
not  serve  in  the  English  army  because  his 
family  left  England  in  1745,  with  the  exception 
of  his  father,  who  was  a  captain  in  the  Royal 
Irish  Fusileers;  Sukuna,  a  Fijian  student  at 
Oxford,  black  as  ink;  Hath,  a  Dane,  over  six 
feet,  whom  Campbell  aptly  calls  "The  Blonde 
Beast"  (vide  "Zarathustra");  Von  somebody, 


30  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

another  Dane,  very  small  and  young;  Bastados, 
a  Swiss  carpenter,  born  and  bred  in  the  Alps, 
who  sings — when  given  hah*  a  litre  of  canteen 
wine — far  better  than  most  comic  opera  stars 
and  who  at  times  does  the  Ranz  des  V aches  so 
that  even  Petit  Pere  Uhlin  claps;  the  brigadier 
Mussorgsky,  cousin  descendant  of  the  com- 
poser, a  little  Russian;  two  or  three  Polish  Jews, 
nondescript  Belgians,  Greeks,  Roumanians,  etc. 
I  already  have  enough  to  write  a  long  (ten 
thousand  word)  article,  and  at  the  end  of  the 
campaign  can  write  a  book  truly  interesting. 

The  more  he  saw  of  it  the  more  picturesque 
and  fascinating  Farnsworth  found  the  new  life 
into  which  he  had  plunged.  He  liked  the  men 
and  the  spirit  that  prevailed  in  the  Legion: 

I  am  thoroughly  at  home  by  this  time  and 
good  friends  with  everyone  in  the  company, 
even  including  a  Belgian  whom  I  was  forced  to 
lick  thoroughly.  The  two  great  Legion  march- 
ing songs,  "Car  nous  sommes  tous  les  freres" 
and  the  old,  the  finest  marching  song  in  the 
world, 

Soldats  de  la  Legion 

La  Legion  Etrangere, 
N'ayant  pas  de  patrie, 
La  France  est  notre  mere, 

are  quite  true  at  bottom,  at  least  in  the 
company. 


HENRY  FARNSWORTH,  LOVER  OF  BOOKS     31 

In  course  of  time  Farnsworth's  regiment 
was  moved  to  the  front  in  northern  France, 
and  early  in  March  he  was  writing  from  the 
trenches.  The  sector  was  quiet  and  little  of  im- 
portance happened  except  an  occasional  bom- 
bardment or  some  desultory  rifle  firing.  He 
was  often  on  night  patrol  in  No  Man's  Land: 

There  is  a  certain  fascination  in  all  this, 
dull  though  it  may  seem.  The  patrol  is  selected 
in  the  afternoon.  At  sunset  we  meet  to  make 
the  plans  and  tell  each  man  his  duty;  then  at 
dark  our  pockets  are  filled  with  cartridges,  a 
drawn  bayonet  in  the  belt,  and  our  magazines 
loaded  to  the  brim.  We  go  along  the  boyau  to 
the  petit  poste  from  which  it  is  decided  to  leave. 
All  along  the  line  the  sentinels  wish  us  good 
luck  and  a  safe  return.  In  the  petit  poste  we 
clamp  on  the  bayonets,  blow  noses,  clear  throats, 
and  prepare  for  three  hours  of  utter  silence. 
At  a  word  from  the  chief  we  form  in  line  in  the 
prearranged  order.  The  sentries  wish  us  luck 
for  the  last  time,  and  the  chief  jumps  up  on  the 
edge  of  the  trenches  and  begins  to  work  his 
way  quickly  through  the  barbed  wire.  Once 
outside  he  disappears  in  the  beet  weeds  and  one 
after  another  we  follow. 

Then  begins  the  crawl  to  the  appointed 
spot.  We  go  slowly  with  frequent  halts.  Every 
sound  must  be  analyzed.  On  the  occasion  of 
the  would-be  ambush,  I  admit  I  went  to  sleep 


32  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

after  awhile  in  the  warm  fresh  clover  where  we 
lay.  It  was  the  Adjutant  himself  who  woke 
me  up  with  a  slight  hiss,  but  as  he  chose  me 
again  next  night,  he  does  not  seem  to  have 
thought  it  a  serious  matter. 

Then,  too,  once  home  we  do  not  mount 
guard  all  the  rest  of  the  night,  and  are  allowed 
to  sleep  in  the  morning;  also  there  are  small 
but  pleasing  discussions  of  the  affair,  and  above 
all  the  hope  of  some  night  suddenly  leaping  out 
of  the  darkness  hand  to  hand  with  the  Ger- 
mans. 

In  one  of  these  night  expeditions  Farnsworth 
and  his  companions  succeeded  in  sticking  some 
French  newspapers  announcing  Italy's  declara- 
tion of  war  on  the  barbed  wire  in  front  of  the 
German  trenches.  Pleased  with  their  enter- 
prise, their  captain  gave  seven  of  them  twenty 
francs  for  a  fete.  "What  an  unforgettable 
supper !"  cries  the  young  Legionnaire: 

There  was  the  sergeant,  Zampanedes,  a 
Greek  of  classic  type,  who  won  his  spurs  at 
Zanina  and  his  stripes  in  the  Bulgarian  cam- 
paign. Since,  he  has  been  a  medical  student 
in  Paris;  that  to  please  his  family,  for  his  heart 
runs  in  different  channels,  and  he  studies  music 
and  draws  in  his  spare  time.  .  .  .  We  first  fell 
into  sympathy  over  the  Acropolis,  and  Cemented 
a  true  friendship  over  Turkish  war  songs  and 


HENRY  FARNSWORTH,  LOVER  OF  BOOKS     33 

Byzantine  chants,  which  he  sings  with  a  mourn- 
ful romanticism  that  I  never  heard  before. 

Then  there  was  Nicolet,  the  Company  Clar- 
ion, serving  his  twelfth  year  in  the  Legion, 
an  incredible  little  Swiss,  tougher  than  the 
drums  of  the  fore  and  aft  and  wise  as  Nestor  in 
the  futile  ruses  of  the  regiment. 

The  Corporal,  Mortens,  a  legionary  wounded 
during  the  winter  and  cited  for  bravery  in  the 
order  of  the  army.  He  was  a  commercial  trav- 
eller in  his  native  grand  duchy  of  Luxemburg, 
but  decided  some  five  years  ago  to  leave  his 
debts  and  troubles  behind  him  and  become  a 
Petit  Zephyr  de  la  Legion  Etrangere. 

Sudic,  a  butcher  from  the  same  grand  duchy, 
a  man  of  iron  physically  and  morally,  but  men- 
tally unimportant. 

Covalieros,  a  Greek  of  Smyrna,  who  might 
have  spread  his  silks  and  laces  at  the  feet  of  a 
feudal  princess  and  charmed  her  with  his  shin- 
ing eyes  and  wild  gestures  into  buying  beyond 
her  means.  He  also  has  been  cited  for  reckless 
gallantry. 

Sukuna  and  myself  brought  up  the  list.  We 
were  all  in  good  spirits  and  flattered,  and  I, 
being  in  funds,  put  in  f.  10  and  Sukuna  the 
same.  Some  of  us  drank  as  deep  as  Socrates, 
and  we  ate  a  mammoth  salad  under  the  stars. 
Nicolet  and  Mortens  talked  of  the  battalion  in 
the  Sahara,  and  Zampanedes  sang  his  Eastern 
songs,  and  even  Sukuna  was  moved  to  Tongan 
chants.  Like  ^Eneas  on  Polyphemus's  isle,  I 
feel  that  some  years  hence,  well  out  of  tune 


34  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

with  all  my  surroundings,  I  shall  be  longing  for 
the  long  warm  summer  days  in  northern  France, 
when  we  slept  like  birds  under  the  stars,  among 
congenial  friends,  when  no  man  ever  thought  of 
the  morrow,  and  you  changed  horizons  with 
each  new  conversation. 

The  letter  from  which  the  foregoing  is  a  selec- 
tion was  written  by  Farnsworth  to  his  mother 
on  June  4,  1915.  A  month  later  the  news  from 
home  that  a  friend  of  his  was  going  to  a  train- 
ing-camp in  the  United  States  where  he  ex- 
pected to  march  five  or  six  miles  a  day  prompted 
him  to  give  this  vivid  picture  of  an  episode  in 
the  life  of  the  Legionnaires: 

The  other  day  we  were  waked  at  2  a.m.  and 
at  3  sent  off  in  a  pouring  rain  for  some  in- 
definite place  across  the  mountains  for  a  divi- 
sional review.  We  went  off  slowly  through  the 
wet  darkness,  but  about  dawn  the  sun  came 
out  and,  as  is  usual  with  the  Legion,  everybody 
cheered  up,  and  at  7  a.m.  we  arrived  at  the 
parade  ground  after  fifteen  kilometres  in  very 
good  spirits.  Two  regiments  of  Zouaves  from 
Africa  were  already  drawn  up.  We  formed  up 
beside  them,  and  then  came  the  two  tirailleurs 
regiments,  their  colors  with  them,  then  the 
second  fitrangere,  two  thousand  strong,  and 
finally  a  squadron  of  Chasseurs  cTAfrique. 


HENRY  FARNSWORTH,  LOVER  OF  BOOKS     35 

We  all  stacked  arms  and  lay  about  on  the 
grass  till  8.30.  Suddenly  the  Zouave  bugles 
crashed  out  sounding  the  "Garde  a  vous"  and 
in  two  minutes  the  division  was  lined  up,  every 
man  stiff  as  a  board — and  all  the  time  the 
bugles  ringing  angrily  from  up  the  line,  and  the 
short  staccato  trumpets  of  the  chasseurs  an- 
swering from  the  other  extremity. 

The  ringing  stopped  suddenly  and  the 
voices  of  the  colonels  crying  " Ba'ionnettes  aux 
canons"  sounded  thin  and  long  drawn  out  and 
were  drowned  by  the  flashing  rattle  of  the 
bayonets  going  on — a  moment  of  perfect  silence, 
and  then  the  slow,  courtly-sounding  of  the 
"General !  General !  qui  passe ! "  broken  by  the 
occasional  crash  as  regiment  after  regiment  pre- 
sented arms.  Slowly  the  General  rode  down 
the  lines,  the  two  Brigadiers  and  a  Division 
General  in  his  suite. 

Then  came  the  defile.  The  Zouaves  led  off, 
their  bugles  playing  "As  tu  vu  la  casquette,  la 
casquette."  Then  the  tirailleurs,  playing  some 
march  of  their  own,  slow  and  fine,  the  bugles 
answering  the  scream  of  the  Arab  reed  flutes  as 
though  Loeffler  had  led  them.  Then  the  Le- 
gion, the  second  Etr anger e  swinging  in  beside 
us  at  the  double,  and  all  the  bugles  crashed 
out  with  the  Legion  marching  song,  "  Tiens  voila 
du  boudin  pour  les  Beiges"  etc.  On  and  on 
went  the  bugles  playing  that  light,  slangy  tune, 
some  of  the  verses  of  which  would  make  Rabe- 
lais shudder,  and  the  minor  variations  of  which 
bring  up  pictures  of  the  Legion  marching  in 


36  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

thin  ranks  in  foreign,  blazing  lands,  and  the 
drums  of  which,  tapping  slowly,  sound  like  the 
feet  of  the  regiment  scrunching  through  desert 
sand.  It  was  all  very  glorious  to  see  and  hear, 
and  to  wind  up  the  chasseurs  went  by  at  the 
gallop — going  off  to  their  quarters. 

To  wind  up  the  day  the  Colonel  took  us 
home  straight  over  the  mountain — fourteen 
kilometres  over  mountain-goat  tracks.*  When 
we  got  in  at  3.30  p.  M.,  having  had  nothing  to 
eat  but  a  bit  of  bread,  three  sardines  and  a 
finger  of  cheese,  few  of  the  men  were  really 
exhausted.  It  was  then  I  got  your  letter  about 
the  training  camp. 

In  August  Farnsworth's  regiment  was  in  Al- 
sace. In  September,  however,  it  was  on  the 
march  and  took  part  in  the  bloody  battle  in 
Champagne  toward  the  end  of  the  month.  His 
last  letter  was  dated  September  16,  1915.  He 
was  killed  in  the  charge  that  his  battalion  made 
on  the  28th,  before  the  Fort  in  de  Navarin.  The 
Farnsworth  Room  in  the  Widener  Memorial 
Library  at  Harvard,  a  large  room  for  the  lei" 
surely  reading  of  such  standard  books  as  Henry 
Farnsworth  loved,  was  handsomely  supplied  with 
books,  pictures  and  furniture  by  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
William  Farnsworth,  in  memory  of  their  son. 

*  Making  about  eighteen  miles  going  and  returning. 


A  DESCENDANT  OF  CITIZEN  GENET 

ONE  of  the  most  graphic  narratives  of  tke 
part  which  the  First  Regiment  of  the 
Foreign  Legion  played  in  the  battle  before 
Navarin,  in  which  Farnsworth  lost  his  life,  is 
to  be  found  in  the  "War  Letters  of  Edmond 
Genet."  Young  Genet — he  was  only  nineteen 
when  he  took  part  in  this  desperate  engagement 
—was  a  great-great-grandson  of  Citizen  Genet, 
whom  the  Revolutionary  government  of  France 
sent  to  this  country  as  its  representative  in 
1792,  and  whose  indiscretions  led  to  the  request 
that  he  be  recalled.  He  did  not  return  to 
France,  but  made  his  home  in  Albany,  and  later 
married  the  daughter  of  Governor  Clinton. 

Genet,  whose  home  was  in  Ossining,  New 
York,  sailed  for  France  at  the  end  of  January, 
1915.  He  had  already  been  in  the  service  of 
the  United  States  Navy,  and  was  on  the  battle- 
ship Georgia  in  Vera  Cruz  harbor  in  the  previous 
spring.  He  was,  as  he  wrote  his  chum  on  the 

37 


38  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

eve  of  sailing,  "born  to  be  a  wanderer."  Yet 
he  was  a  youth  of  great  independence  and  of 
resolute  will,  so  that  when  he  came  to  a  full 
realization  of  the  nature  of  the  conflict  and  of 
the  peril  in  which  his  beloved  France  was  placed, 
his  decision  was  prompt  and  was  followed  by 
immediate  action.  His  high  sense  of  duty  and 
the  call  of  the  blood  left  him  no  alternative  but 
to  take  his  chances  in  the  great  war,  as  he 
phrased  it,  with  the  French.  He  had  no  illu- 
sions as  to  the  probable  outcome  of  his  venture, 
but  his  religion — he  was  a  devout  Churchman 
— enabled  him  to  face  the  worst  that  might 
happen  to  him  with  composure  of  mind  and 
with  a  resolute  heart.  "I  expect  to  have  to 
give  up  my  life  on  the  battle-field,"  he  wrote 
to  a  friend.  "I  care  nothing  about  that. 
Death  to  me  is  but  the  beginning  of  another  life 
— better  and  sweeter.  I  do  not  fear  it." 

Early  in  February,  1915,  Genet  carried  out 
the  definite  plan  which  he  had  formed  before  he 
left  America  of  enlisting  in  the  Foreign  Legion. 
After  nearly  two  months  in  various  training- 
camps  his  regiment  was  put  into  the  trenches 
in  northern  France,  where,  with  alternate  peri- 


l>      r  a 

J5»  •*!  a 


So 


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-C     .2   a 

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i*    i  c 

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^    S  "E 

i  -5 

.3 


A  DESCENDANT  OF  CITIZEN  GENET     39 

ods  of  rest  and  mild  trench  warfare,  he  passed 
many  weeks.  Finally,  on  September  22,  in  a 
short  letter  to  his  mother,  he  wrote  that  a  "big 
fight"  was  coming. 

The  letter  in  which  Genet  described  his  part 
in  the  battle  which  began  on  September  25  mis- 
carried, and  consequently  he  sent  a  second,  at  a 
much  later  date,  giving  the  details.  From  this 
letter  the  following  selections  are  made: 

Leaving  the  camp  of  concentration  that  same 
night  we  marched  to  a  town  called  Suippes 
and  thence  to  a  woods  about  three  kilometres 
beyond  and  nearer  the  front.  The  country  all 
around  there  is  made  up  of  many  large  plains, 
with  here  and  there  small  wooded  parts  which 
were  admirable  hiding-places  for  troops.  There 
we  camped  until  the  morning  of  the  25th,  about 
a  two  weeks'  period  in  which  we  were  served 
the  necessities  for  the  coming  fight — new  clothes 
for  old  if  required,  masks  for  protection  from 
gas,  the  metal  helmets  and  many  other  things 
I  including  the  extra  ammunition;  120  rounds  is 
ordinarily  carried  per  man  and  250  for  actual 
fighting.  The  latter  is  no  light  load.  The  last 
few  nights  of  those  two  weeks  we  dug  "lead- 
ers" to  the  trenches  for  the  passage  of  extra 
troops.  .  .  . 

The  night  before  the  25th  our  colonel  read 
to  us  in  the  dusk  the  order  from  Gen'l  Joffre 


40  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

for  the  attack.  The  Division  Marocaine  was 
to  be  in  the  first  reserve.  The  Colonial  Divi- 
sion made  the  attack.  Long  before  dawn  on 
the  25th  we  marched  to  our  position  just  to  the 
rear  of  the  first  French  line,  to  the  west  of  the 
little  village  (then  a  mass  of  shattered  ruins)  of 
Sompey,  amid  a  drenching  misty  rain.  We  had 
light  loads  in  our  sacks  and  plenty  of  cold  ra- 
tions in  our  musettes  (food-bags).  The  bom- 
bardment of  the  German  trenches  before  the 
charge  was  terrific.  The  German  line  looked 
like  a  wall  of  fire  and  hellish  flames  from  the 
bursting  shells.  The  batteries  of  both  sides 
made  the  world  sound  like  Hades  let  loose. 
From  the  sharp  crack  of  the  famous  French 
75's  to  the  deep  roar  of  the  aerial  torpedoes  it 
was  an  incessant  Bedlam.  About  nine  o'clock 
a  French  aeroplane  flew  right  over  our  first 
line,  circled  around  and  back.  It  was  the  sig- 
nal for  the  French  batteries  to  cease  shelling 
the  German  first  line  and  for  the  Colonials  to 
charge.  They  did,  and  nobly  too.  Taking  the 
German  first  line,  with  a  vast  number  of  pris- 
oners, they  forced  the  Germans  back  to  their 
reserve  lines. 

Then  it  was  that  we  began  our  advance  in 
their  rear  as  reserves.  Passing  through  the 
leaders  toward  the  old  French  line  we  passed 
scores  of  captured  wounded  Germans.  Some 
of  them,  mere  boys  of  16  to  20,  were  in  a  ghastly 
condition.  Bleeding,  clothing  torn  to  shreds, 
wounded  by  ball,  shell  and  bayonet,  they  were 
pitiable  sights.  I  saw  many  who  sobbed  with 


A  DESCENDANT  OF  CITIZEN   GENET     4i 

their  arms  around  a  comrade's  neck.  We 
passed  French  dying  and  wounded  being  hur- 
riedly cared  for  by  the  hospital  attendants. 
Blood  was  everywhere  and  it  was  simply  sick- 
ening. The  smell  of  powder  filled  the  air  and 
to  me  it  is  one  of  the  most  disagreeable  odors 
we  encountered  with  the  exception  of  what 
came  later — that  of  decayed  bodies  of  horses 
and  mules  and  even  men,  left  unburied  for 
whole  weeks.  That  is  too  horrible  for  more 
than  mention. 

We  followed  up  the  Colonials  and  passed 
part  of  the  late  morning  in  the  captured  Ger- 
man trenches.  They  were  battered  beyond 
description  and  filled  with  dead — mostly  Ger- 
mans. German  equipments  lay  thrown  every- 
where, discarded  in  the  flight.  Many  German 
wounded  could  be  seen  making  their  way  pain- 
fully to  the  rear.  I  remember  one  poor  fellow 
who  must  have  been  totally  blinded  for  he 
walked  directly  into  the  barbed  wire  and  had 
a  most  trying  and  painful  time  to  get  out.  .  .  . 

About  two  o'clock  we  began  to  advance  un- 
der fire  behind  the  Colonials  and  then  it  was 
that  I  had  about  the  closest  shave  from  death 
in  all  that  month.  Our  section  had  to  advance 
over  a  ridge  and  we  must  have  been  seen  by  a 
battery  which  was  sending  shells  of  320  mm. 
calibre  into  the  advancing  Colonials.  Some- 
how we  felt  that  huge  shell  coming;  how,  I 
don't  know,  but  we  all  just  threw  ourselves  flat 
into  the  mud.  If  I  had  been  one  little  hun- 
dredth of  a  second  late  I  wouldn't  be  telling 


42  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

the  tale  now.  I  felt  that  monster  hurl  directly 
over  my  head;  the  intake  of  air  raised  me  at 
least  an  inch  out  of  the  mire  which  I  was  grip- 
ping with  every  finger  and  with  all  my  might. 
The  shell  burst  not  more  than  three  yards  be- 
hind me  and  killed  four  of  the  section  and 
wounded  several  others.  My  heart  had  one 
of  the  quickest  jumps  of  its  life.  .  .  . 

We  continued  on  our  advance  until  darkness 
set  in  and  lay  all  that  night  in  a  drenching 
rain  in  watery  mud.  Sleep  was  practically 
impossible.  Shells  were  dropping  around  us 
every  few  minutes  and  anyway  the  horrors  of 
the  day  just  closed  were  too  awful  to  allow 
pleasant  dreams  or  even  sleep  to  follow.  All 
night  the  cries  of  the  dying  could  be  heard.  I 
felt  as  though  I  were  in  some  weird  nightmare. 
I  wish  it  had  been,  for  then  I  could  have  awak- 
ened and  found  it  to  be  only  a  dream.  As  it 
was  it  was  a  grim  reality. 

Just  after  we  arrived  at  that  place,  when 
darkness  had  set  in,  was  when  Dave  Wheeler* 
showed  his  coolness.  There  was  a  false  cry  for 
us  to  charge  and  the  Third  Company,  in  which 
he  was,  started  forward  with  bayonets  on. 
The  Commandant  of  the  Battalion,  seeing  the 
mistake,  jumped  in  front  of  the  advancing  and 
excited  men  and  tried  to  check  them.  One  of 
the  sergeants  of  the  Third  helped  him  and  Dave, 
cooler  than  the  rest,  did  the  same.  The  check 
succeeded  and  Dave  told  me  afterward  that 

*  Dr.  David  E.  Wheeler,  at  Buffalo,  N.  Y.,  a  member  of  the  Legion 
and  a  warm  friend  of  Genet's. 


A  DESCENDANT  OF  CITIZEN  GENET     43 

the  Commandant  asked  who  he  was.  The 
Commandant  found  a  soldier's  death  directly 
in  front  of  Dave  on  the  28th  in  our  attack. 
Early  the  next  morning  I  tried  to  find  Dave 
and  couldn't  and  so  was  very  afraid  that  he 
had  been  killed  in  the  previous  day's  advance. 

We  changed  our  position  early  that  morning 
to  a  small  woods  behind  the  new  French  line 
which  the  Colonials  were  holding,  and  were 
under  a  terrific  bombardment  all  the  day,  being 
in  direct  line  between  the  dual  fire  of  a  French 
battery  of  75 's  and  one  of  the  German  77's. 
The  German  shells  landed  nearer  to  us  than 
they  did  to  the  French  battery.  That  night 
our  first  lieutenant,  a  fine  young  man,  was  in- 
stantly killed  by  a  bursting  shell.  We  buried 
him  where  he  fell  like  any  other  soldier. 

Being  out  of  rations,  several  of  us  had  to  go 
nearly  six  kilometres  that  night  for  new  rations 
for  the  company.  You  can  imagine  how  tired 
we  were  when  we  got  back  and  it  was  raining 
again  which  didn't  help  sleeping  a  bit. 

The  following  day  we  moved  farther  back  to 
another  woods,  but  here  we  got  into  a  worse 
bombardment.  We  lost  men  there  every  day. 
To  protect  ourselves  as  much  as  possible  from 
the  bursting  shells  we  dug  individual  trenches 
into  the  ground  just  large  enough  to  lie  in,  but 
many  a  poor  fellow  merely  dug  his  own  grave 
for  they  are  no  protection  should  a  shell  fall 
directly  into  one  on  top  of  the  occupant.  It 
was  hell  and  nothing  less.  That  day  I  found 
Dave  and  felt  much  better  for  it.  I  guess  he 


4i  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

did  too  for  that  matter.  That  was  the  27th — 
only  the  third  day  of  the  horrors. 

The  28th  (it  will  live  in  my  memory  forever) 
brought  no  excitement  until  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon.  Then  we  were  ordered  to  prepare 
to  depart  for  the  attack.  The  Colonel  had 
chafed  over  continually  being  in  reserve  and 
had  personally  asked  the  General  in  command 
for  permission  to  put  the  Legion  to  the  front 
attack.  His  request  was  granted.  The  first 
and  second  companies  of  the  First  Battalion 
and  the  third  and  fourth  of  the  Second  Battalion 
were  to  take  the  advance.  The  other  two 
companies  of  each  battalion  held  the  reserve. 
Ahead  of  us  the  Arab  Tirailleurs  made  two 
strong  charges  and  both  times  had  to  fall  back. 
They  were  ordered  to  make  a  third  and,  refusing 
to  face  again  the  murderous  fire  of  the  German 
machine-guns,  turned  in  flight. 

Meanwhile  we  had  started  our  advance  in 
solid  columns  of  fours,  each  section  a  unit.  It 
was  wonderful — that  slow  advance.  Not  a 
waver,  not  a  break,  through  the  storm  of  shell 
the  Legion  marched  forward.  Officers  in  ad- 
vance with  the  Commandant  at  their  head;  it 
inspired  us  all  to  courage  and  calmness.  We 
met  the  fleeing  Tirailleurs  and  our  officers  tried 
to  turn  them  back.  I  saw  our  Commandant, 
wrath  written  all  over  his  face,  deliberately 
kick  one  Arab  to  make  him  halt  in  his  flight. 
Shells  were  bursting  everywhere.  One  lost  his 
personal  feelings.  He  simply  became  a  unit — 
a  machine. 


A  DESCENDANT  OF  CITIZEN  GENET     45 

Crossing  a  clearing  we  came  at  last  to  a 
woods  just  in  front  of  the  German  line.  There 
we  met  the  decimating  fire  of  the  machine-guns, 
bayonets  were  fixed,  and  the  order  given  to 
advance  on  the  run.  A  faint  cheer  rose  above 
the  ping-ping  of  the  bullets.  Leaping  a  trench 
containing  the  terrified  Tirailleurs,  we  charged. 
The  forward  French  line  which  the  Colonial 
troops  were  holding  was  still  before  us.  There 
was  a  slight  pause  when  we  got  there.  The  sec- 
tions formed  into  a  skirmish-line  and,  being  in 
the  fourth  section  of  our  company,  the  Fourth, 
I  got  away  over  on  the  left  flank.  The  Third 
Company  was  on  our  right.  Everywhere  men 
were  falling.  The  fire  was  terrific.  As  I  ran  for 
the  left  with  the  secti«  >n  I  could  hear  the  bullets 
cutting  the  leaves  and  twigs  all  around  me — 
ping,  ping,  they  hissed  as  they  struck  the  trees. 
They  came  from  the  front  and  the  left,  hissing 
death  in  our  ranks  'til  there  were  few  of  us  left. 

While  the  woods  ended  at  the  French  line  in 
front,  they  extended  far  beyond  on  our  flank. 
We  leaped  the  first  line  where  the  Colonials 
were.  Their  duty  was  to  stay  there  and  hold 
that  line.  We  charged  on,  but  somehow  about 
fifty  metres  ahead  of  the  line  I  found  myself 
alone  with  one  other  young  fellow  from  my 
section.  The  others  who  had  leaped  the  French 
line  with  us  were  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Seeing 
this,  we  dropped  flat  behind  a  bush,  thinking 
the  rest  would  rush  up  behind  us  and  continue 
the  charge.  The  Germans  had  begun  to  shell 
the  wood  just  ahead  of  us.  The  din  was  ter- 


46  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

rific.  Dead  Tirailleurs  were  lying  everywhere, 
killed  in  those  two  first  charges,  ghastly  and 
bloody.  There  were  none  of  the  Legion  around 
us  to  charge.  I  turned  to  my  companion  and 
said,  "They're  all  dead  here  (motioning  to  the 
corpses);  the  section  must  be  behind  us;  shall 
we  beat  it  back?"  He  nodded,  stood  up  and 
started  back  on  the  run.  I  followed  and 
reached  the  Colonial  line  without  a  scratch.  I 
never  saw  the  young  Italian  again  but  heard  a 
long  time  after  that  he  had  been  wounded  and 
was  carried  back  that  night. 

Behind  the  Colonial  line  I  found  the  two 
sergeants  of  my  section  with  half  a  dozen  men. 
They  had  retreated  before  my  comrade  and  I 
had  seen  them,  and  were  waiting  there  for 
further  events.  Darkness  was  falling.  I  had 
thrown  away  my  sack  in  the  commencement 
of  the  charge  and  in  it  were  my  rations — some 
bread  and  a  tin  of  beef — and  my  tent.  I  had 
a  mouthful  of  water  in  my  canteen  but  nothing 
to  eat.  We  lay  there  until  after  seven  and  then 
the  Adjutant,  the  only  officer  left  of  our  com- 
pany, found  us  and  the  remnants  of  the  Third 
and  our  company  were  gathered  together  to 
go  back  to  where  we  were  before  the  attack. 
A  half  kilometre  back  of  the  line  the  Major  (the 
Battalion  doctor)  had  five  badly  wounded  men 
of  the  two  companies  and  asked  the  Adjutant 
to  let  us  carry  them  back  to  the  field-hospital 
in  the  rear.  Tents  were  secured,  and  with  four 
of  us  to  each  tent  we  carried  them  nearly  four 
kilometres  over  rough  muddy  ground  to  the 


A  DESCENDANT  OF  CITIZEN  GENET     47 

field-hospital.  You  can  imagine  the  agonies  of 
those  five  wounded  men  being  carried  along  un- 
der such  conditions.  They  stood  it  far  better 
than  I  thought  they  would. 

When  the  Adjutant  counted  us  off  in  fours 
to  carry  them  he  counted  just  thirty-one,  in- 
cluding himself,  gathered  there  from  the  two 
companies  of  250  each !  I  found  my  little  S. 
American  comrade  safe  among  them  and  heard 
from  a  hospital  attendant  that  he  had  seen 
Dave  crawling  off  to  the  rear  after  the  fight 
with  a  bullet  wound  in  his  leg.  He  said  he  had 
more  pluck  than  any  of  them.  Thus  it  was 
that  I  wrote  to  Mrs.  Wheeler  the  next  day  and 
told  her  of  Dave's  condition  and  not  to  worry. 
As  it  was,  she  heard  from  him  before  she  got 
my  note,  but  just  the  same  I  was  glad  I  had 
written.  Brave  Dave  went  down  beside  his 
captain,  the  last  of  his  company  in  that  section, 
and  he  saw  his  captain  and  the  Commandant 
both  make  very  brave  ends. 

The  thirty-one  of  us  reached  our  old  camp 
about  ten  and  dropped  gladly  into  our  little 
trenches  for  sleep.  It  was  raining,  there  was  an 
inch  of  water  in  my  trench  and  I  had  no  tent 
to  put  over  me.  I  was  soaked  through,  cov- 
ered with  mud,  hungry,  thirsty,  and  thoroughly 
exhausted  but  sleep  was  impossible.  I  dozed 
and  shivered  for  the  rest  of  the  night,  thinking 
of  the  afternoon's  events  and  wondering  fear- 
fully whether  Dave  was  alive  and  safely  on  his 
way  to  succor.  I  prayed  it  was  so  and  dawn 
brought  sunshine  and  somn.  warmth. 


48  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

We  who  were  left  looked  around  that  morn- 
ing to  see  who  was  there.  Old  faces  were  gone. 
Out  of  my  squad  of  twelve  there  were  only  two 
of  us  left.  We  all  had  our  little  accounts  to 
tell.  Our  Adjutant  and  the  few  sergeants  left, 
at  the  order  from  the  Colonel,  got  the  Third 
and  Fourth  Companies  together  into  one.  There 
were,  with  those  who  turned  up  that  day,  about 
120  all  told— all  that  was  left  from  nearly  500 ! 
We  got  soup  and  meat,  a  swallow  of  whiskey 
and  wine,  and  tried  to  make  ourselves  com- 
fortable. It  was  hard  work.  .  .  . 

The  next  day  I  found  some  of  the  Ameri- 
cans in  the  other  Battalion  and  learned  of 
Farnsworth's  death  in  the  attack.  No  other 
American  was  lost  in  the  First  Regiment. 

October  2nd  we  were  drawn  back  to  the  rear 
to  the  camp  where  we  were  the  first  day  at 
Champagne.  The  French  were  strengthening 
their  position  all  over.  New  positions  were 
being  established  for  the  batteries.  All  the 
counter-attacks  of  the  German  forces  had  failed. 
The  French  victory  was  complete. 

Soon  after  this  terrific  battle  Genet's  regi- 
ment of  the  Foreign  Legion  went  into  retire- 
ment near  Paris,  and  he  saw  no  more  active 
service  in  its  ranks.  During  the  winter  he  was 
in  this  rest-camp,  with  occasional  visits  to 
Paris,  where  he  saw  much  of  his  friends  the 
Wheelers,  Dr.  Wheeler  having  recovered  from 


A  DESCENDANT  OF  CITIZEN  GENET     49 

the  wound  in  his  leg.*  In  the  spring  of  1916 
Genet  was  able  to  secure  a  transfer  from  the 
Foreign  Legion  to  the  French  aviation  corps, 
a  change  for  which  he  had  been  working  since 
the  previous  autumn.  His  experiences  as  an 
aviator  will  be  considered  later. 

*After  serving  as  captain  in  the  Canadian  Army,  Dr.  Wheeler,  when 
the  United  States  entered  the  war,  was  transferred  to  the  American 
forces  with  the  rank  of  major.  He  served  as  regimental  surgeon  in 
Lorraine,  at  Cantigny,  and  at  Chateau-Thierry,  and  was  killed  ki 
August,  1918,  while  attending  the  wounded  under  fire. 


VI 
ALAN  SBEGER,  POET  OF  THE  LEGION 

THE  fullest  and  the  most  serious  and  prob- 
ably, as  a  consequence,  the  most  valuable 
record  thus  far  published  of  life  in  the  For- 
eign Legion,  is  to  be  found  in  the  "Letters 
and  Diary  of  Alan  Seeger."  Seeger  wa*  some- 
what older  than  the  other  American  volunteers 
who  were  in  the  Legion  and  more  mature  in 
mind,  having  seen  much  of  the  world,  having 
meditated  deeply  and  having  expressed  himself 
in  verse  of  enduring  value.  Then,  too,  it  was 
vouchsafed  to  him,  being  in  reserve  yet  by  no 
means  out  of  danger,  to  live  through  the  battle 
of  Champagne,  so  vividly  described  by  young 
Genet,  and  to  continue  in  the  Legion  until 
July,  1916,  nearly  two  years,  when  he  fell  at 
Belloy-en-Santerre.  His  diary  and  letters,  there- 
fore, cover  a  longer  period  than  those  of  any 
other  Ameri«an  in  the  Foreign  Legion. 

Born  in   New  York,   of  old   New  England 

50 


ALAN  SEEGER,  POET  OF  THE  LEGION      51 

stock,  in  1888,  Seeger  passed  his  boyhood  on 
Staten  Island.  When  he  was  twelve  the  family 
moved  to  the  city  of  Mexico,  where  the  youth 
lived  two  years,  a  period  which  left  a  deep  im- 
pression upon  his  temperament  and  his  tastes. 
He  entered  Harvard  in  1906  from  the  Hackley 
School  at  Tarrytown,  New  York,  having  in  the 
interval  spent  a  year  with  a  tutor  in  California. 
The  first  hah*  of  his  college  course  was  given  to 
his  studies  and  to  miscellaneous  reading,  the 
latter  half  rather  more  to  his  friends.  The 
members  of  his  family  were  exceptionally  gifted 
as  writers  and  musicians,  and  his  tastes  were 
along  similar  lines.  Even  when  a  boy  in  the 
city  of  Mexico  he  and  the  other  members  of 
the  family  had  issued  a  home  magazine,  and  in 
college  he  was  one  of  the  editors  of  the  Harvard 
Monthly. 

The  two  years  following  Seeger's  graduation 
in  1910  formed  a  period  of  hesitation  and  un- 
certainty as  to  his  course  in  life.  Finally  he 
decided  that  what  he  sought  might  be  found  in 
Paris — beauty,  romance,  picturesqueness,  the 
joy  of  life.  Thus  it  happened  that  when  the 
war  began  he  was  living  among  the  students  of 


52  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

the  Latin  Quarter,  absorbing  experiences  and 
recording  his  thoughts  and  feelings  in  verse. 
Before  the  war  was  three  weeks  old  he,  with  a 
number  of  his  fellow  countrymen,  enlisted  in 
the  Foreign  Legion  of  France.  He  has  ex- 
plained, with  simplicity  and  with  obvious  sin- 
cerity, the  motive  which  led  them  to  take  this 
step.  In  a  letter  written  from  the  Aisne  trenches 
in  May,  1915,  to  the  New  Republic,  he  said: 

I  have  talked  with  so  many  of  the  young 
volunteers  here.  Their  case  is  little  known, 
even  by  the  French,  yet  altogether  interesting 
and  appealing.  They  are  foreigners  on  whom 
the  outbreak  of  war  laid  no  formal  compulsion. 
But  they  had  stood  on  the  butte  in  springtime 
perhaps,  as  Julian  and  Louise  stood,  and  looked 
out  over  the  myriad  twinkling  lights  of  the 
beautiful  city.  Paris — mystic,  maternal,  per- 
sonified, to  whom  they  owed  the  happiest  mo- 
ments of  their  lives — Paris  was  in  peril.  Were 
they  not  under  a  moral  obligation,  no  less  bind- 
ing than  [that  by  which]  their  comrades  were 
bound  legally,  to  put  their  breasts  between  her 
and  destruction?  Without  renouncing  their 
nationality,  they  had  yet  chosen  to  make  their 
homes  here  beyond  any  other  city  in  the  world. 
Did  not  the  benefits  and  blessings  they  had  re- 
ceived point  them  a  duty  that  heart  and  con- 
science could  not  deny? 


ALAN  SEEGER,  POET  OF  THE  LEGION    53 
A  month  later  he  wrote  to  his  mother: 

You  must  not  be  anxious  about  my  not 
coming  back.  The  chances  are  about  ten  to 
one  that  I  will.  But  if  I  should  not,  you  must 
be  proud,  like  a  Spartan  mother,  and  feel  that 
it  is  your  contribution  to  the  triumph  of  the 
cause  whose  righteousness  you  feel  so  keenly. 
Everybody  should  take  part  in  this  struggle 
which  is  to  have  so  decisive  an  effect,  not  only 
on  the  nations  engaged  but  on  all  humanity. 
There  should  be  no  neutrals,  but  everyone 
should  bear  some  part  of  the  burden.  If  so 
large  a  part  should  fall  to  your  share,  you  would 
be  in  so  far  superior  to  other  women  and  should 
be  correspondingly  proud.  There  would  be 
nothing  to  regret,  for  I  could  not  have  done 
otherwise  than  what  I  did,  and  I  think  I  could 
not  have  done  better.  Death  is  nothing  terrible 
after  all.  It  may  mean  something  even  more 
wonderful  than  life.  It  cannot  possibly  mean 
anything  worse  to  the  good  soldier. 

It  was  in  this  spirit  of  high  chivalry  and  with 
a  deep  conviction  of  the  justice  of  the  cause  for 
which  he  was  ready  to  lay  down  his  life  that 
Seeger  entered  the  Foreign  Legion.  Many 
weeks  of  hard  drilling  at  Toulouse  followed. 
Then  his  regiment,  the  Second  Etranger,  about 
4.000  men,  was  transferred  to  the  Camp  de 


54  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

Mailly,  and  by  the  middle  of  October  he  had 
hopes  of  soon  being  at  the  front.  "I  go  into 
action,"  he  wrote,  "with  the  lightest  of  light 
hearts.  The  hard  work  and  moments  of  fright- 
ful fatigue  have  not  broken  but  hardened  me, 
and  I  am  in  excellent  health  and  spirits.  .  .  . 
I  am  happy  and  full  of  excitement  over  the 
wonderful  days  that  are  ahead." 

Seeger's  hopes  for  early  action  were  not  ful- 
filled. His  regiment  found  itself  in  the  trenches 
in  the  centre  of  the  battle  line  in  northern 
France  in  the  early  winter,  without  any  pros- 
pect of  open  warfare,  and  his  disappointment 
was  keen.  In  a  letter  to  the  New  York  Sun, 
written  early  in  December,  he  described  life  in 
the  trenches  as  follows: 

This  style  of  warfare  is  extremely  modern 
and  for  the  artillerymen  is  doubtless  very  inter- 
esting, but  for  the  poor  common  soldier  it  is 
anything  but  romantic.  His  role  is  simply  to 
dig  himself  a  hole  in  the  ground  and  to  keep 
hidden  in  it  as  tightly  as  possible.  Continually 
under  the  fire  of  the  opposing  batteries,  he  is 
yet  never  allowed  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  enemy. 
Exposed  to  all  the  dangers  of  war,  but  with 
none  of  its  enthusiasms  or  splendid  elan,  he  is 
condemned  to  sit  like  an  animal  in  its  burrow 


ALAN  SEEGER,  POET  OF  THE  LEGION    55 

and  hear  the  shells  whistle  over  his  head  and 
take  their  little  daily  toll  from  his  comrades. 

The  winter  morning  dawns  with  gray  skies 
and  the  hoar  frost  on  the  fields.  His  feet  are 
numb,  his  canteen  frozen,  but  he  is  not  allowed 
to  make  a  fire.  The  winter  night  falls,  with  its 
prospect  of  sentry  duty,  and  the  continual  ap- 
prehension of  the  hurried  call  to  arms;  he  is  not 
even  permitted  to  light  a  candle,  but  must  fold 
himself  in  his  blanket  and  lie  down  cramped  in 
the  dirty  straw  to  sleep  as  best  he  may.  How 
different  from  the  popular  notion  of  the  evening 
campfire,  the  songs  and  good  cheer. 

Early  in  January,  1915,  Seeger's  regiment 
was  moved  to  a  ruined  village,  where  he  found 
the  life  much  less  trying  than  in  the  trenches. 
The  village,  however,  was  in  the  most  danger- 
ous part  of  the  sector,  close  to  the  German 
lines,  from  which  patrols  came  down  almost 
every  night  to  harass  the  French  outposts.  In 
a  letter  to  his  father,  dated  January  11,  Seeger 
narrated  an  incident,  illustrating  the  nature  of 
this  patrol  warfare: 

Four  days  almost  without  sleep,  constant 
assignment  to  petit  paste,  sometimes  12  out  of 
24  hours  on  guard  in  the  most  dangerous  posi- 
tions. It  was  in  one  of  these  that  I  came  for 
the  first  time  in  immediate  contact  with  the 


56  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

enemy  in  a  most  unfortunate  affair.  I  was 
standing  guard  under  the  wall  of  a  chateau 
park  with  a  comrade  when  a  patrol  sneaked  up 
on  the  other  side  and  threw  a  hand  grenade 
over,  which  sputtered  a  moment  at  our  feet 
and  went  out  without  exploding.  Without  cry- 
ing to  arms,  I  left  the  other  sentry  on  the  spot 
and  walked  down  to  the  petit  poste,  about  100 
metres  away  and  called  out  the  corporal  of  the 
guard.  We  walked  back  to  the  spot  together 
and  had  hardly  arrived  when  another  bomb 
came  over,  which  exploded  among  us  with  a 
tremendous  detonation.  In  the  confusion  that 
followed  the  attacking  party  burst  in  the  door 
that  covered  a  breach  in  the  wall  at  this  spot 
and  poured  a  volley  into  our  midst,  killing  our 
corporal  instantly  and  getting  away  before  we 
had  time  to  fire  a  shot. 

In  a  letter  to  the  New  York  Sun  Seeger  de- 
scribed this  incident  with  more  particularity, 
adding  this  detail: 

That  night  there  was  not  much  difference 
at  petit  poste  between  the  two  hours  on  guard 
and  the  two  hours  off.  Every  one  was  on  the 
alert,  keyed  up  with  apprehension.  But  noth- 
ing happened,  as  indeed  there  was  no  reason 
to  suppose  that  anything  would.  Only  about 
midnight,  from  far  up  on  the  hillside,  a  diaboli- 
cal cry  came  down,  more  like  an  animal's  than 
a  man's,  a  blood-curdling  yell  of  mockery  and 
exultation. 


ALAN  SEEGER,  POET  OF  THE  LEGION      57 

In  that  cry  all  the  evolution  of  centuries 
was  levelled.  I  seemed  to  hear  the  yell  of  the 
warrior  of  the  stone  age  over  his  fallen  enemy. 
It  was  one  of  those  antidotes  to  civilization  of 
which  this  war  can  offer  so  many  to  the  searcher 
after  extraordinary  sen  ations. 

Spring  passed  and  summer  came  in  compara- 
tive inactivity,  though  the  regiment  was  moved 
from  place  to  place.     Early  in  July  the  Ameri- 
cans received  permission  to  spend  the  Fourth 
in    Paris,    and   Seeger   notes   that   there   were 
thirty-two  to  avail  themselves  of  this  privilege. 
The  glimpses  one  gets  of  his  American  comrades 
are  few  and  meagre;  his  French  companions  are 
apparently  of  more  interest  to  him.     His  diary 
under  date  of  July  27,  however,  notes  that  the 
regiment  is  billeted  in  a  village  in  Alsace  at  the 
foot  of  the  Vosges  and  that  he  and  his  college- 
mate,  King,  often  spent  the  evening  together  at 
a  little  inn  called  Le  Cheval  Blanc.     He  passed 
some  time,  also,  reading  Treitschke's  "Lectures 
on  Politics,"  which  Victor  Chapman  had  lent 
him.     On  July  31  he  made  this  entry:  "Walked 
up  to  Plancher-les-Mines  with  Victor  Chapman; 
there  met  Farnsworth  who  is  in  the  ler  Etr an- 
ger, and  we  all  had  dinner  together." 


58  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

In  August  Seeger  wrote  in  this  vein  to  his 
mother: 

Given  my  nature,  I  could  not  have  done 
otherwise  than  I  have  done.  Anything  con- 
ceivable that  I  might  have  done  had  I  not  en- 
listed would  have  been  less  than  what  I  am 
doing  now,  and  anything  that  I  may  do  after 
the  war  is  over,  if  I  survive,  will  be  less  too.  I 
have  always  had  the  passion  to  play  the  biggest 
part  within  my  reach  and  it  is  reafly  in  a  sense 
a  supreme  success  to  be  allowed  to  play  this. 
If  I  do  not  come  out,  I  will  share  the  good  for- 
tune of  those  who  disappear  at  the  pinnacle  of 
then*  careers.  Come  to  love  France  and  under- 
stand the  almost  unexampled  nobility  of  the 
effort  this  admirable  people  is  making,  for  that 
will  be  the  surest  way  of  your  finding  comfort  for 
anything  that  I  am  ready  to  suffer  in  their  cause. 

The  great  offensive  that  was  to  be  launched 
by  the  French  at  the  end  of  September  found 
Seeger  in  a  state  of  high  expectation.  His  regi- 
ment was  to  support  the  Colonials.  In  Octo- 
ber he  wrote  to  his  mother  as  follows  of  his 
share  in  the  battle: 

The  part  we  played  in  the  battle  is  briefly 
as  follows.  We  broke  camp  about  11  o'clock 
the  night  of  the  24th,  and  marched  up  through 
ruined  Souain  to  our  place  in  one  of  the  numer- 


ALAN  SEEGER,  POET  OF  THE  LEGION     59 

ous  boyaux  where  the  troupes  d'attaque  were 
massed.  The  cannonade  was  pretty  violent  all 
that  night,  as  it  had  been  for  several  days  pre- 
vious, but  toward  dawn  it  reached  an  intensity 
unimaginable  to  anyone  who  has  not  seen  a 
modern  battle.  A  little  before  9.15  the  fire 
lessened  suddenly  and  the  crackle  of  the  fusil- 
lade between  the  reports  of  the  cannon  told  us 
that  the  first  wave  of  assault  had  left  and  the 
attack  begun.  At  the  same  time  we  received 
the  order  to  advance.  The  German  artillery 
had  now  begun  to  open  upon  us  in  earnest. 
Amid  the  most  infernal  roar  of  every  kind  of 
fire-arms  and  through  an  atmosphere  heavy 
with  dust  and  smoke  we  marched  up  through 
the  boyaux  to  the  tranchees  de  depart.  At  shal- 
low places  and  over  breaches  that  shells  had 
made  in  the  bank  we  caught  momentary  glimpses 
of  the  blue  lines  sweeping  up  the  hillside  or  sil- 
houetted on  the  crest  where  they  poured  into 
the  German  trenches.  When  the  last  wave  of 
the  Colonial  brigade  had  left,  we  followed. 
Baionnette  au  canon,  in  lines  of  tirailleurs,  we 
crossed  the  open  space  between  the  lines,  over 
the  barbed  wire,  where  not  so  many  of  our  men 
were  lying  as  I  had  feared  (thanks  to  the  effi- 
cacy of  the  bombardment)  and  over  the  Ger- 
man trench,  knocked  to  pieces  and  filled  with 
their  dead.  In  some  places  they  still  resisted 
in  isolated  groups.  Opposite  us,  all  was  over, 
and  the  herds  of  prisoners  were  being  already 
led  down  as  we  went  up.  We  cheered,  more  in 
triumph  than  in  hate,  but  the  poor  devils,  ter- 


60  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

ror-stricken,  held  up  their  hands,  begged  for 
their  lives,  cried  "Kamerad,"  "Bon  Frangais," 
even  "Vive  la  France."  We  advanced  and  lay 
down  in  columns  by  two  behind  the  second 
crest.  Meanwhile,  bridges  had  been  thrown 
across  trenches  and  boyaux,  and  the  artillery, 
leaving  the  emplacements  where  they  had  been 
anchored  a  whole  year,  came  across  and  took 
position  in  the  open,  a  magnificent  spectacle. 
Squadrons  of  cavalry  came  up.  Suddenly  the 
long,  unpicturesque  guerre  de  tranchees  was  at 
an  end  and  the  field  really  presented  the  aspect 
of  the  familiar  battle  pictures — the  battalions 
in  manoeuvre,  the  officers,  superbly  indifferent 
to  danger,  galloping  about  on  their  chargers. 
But  now  the  German  guns,  moved  back,  began 
to  get  our  range  and  the  shells  to  burst  over 
and  around  batteries  and  troops,  many  with 
admirable  precision.  Here  my  best  comrade 
was  struck  down  by  shrapnel  at  my  side — pain- 
fully but  not  mortally  wounded. 

I  often  envied  him  after  that.  For  now  our 
advanced  troops  were  in  contact  with  the  Ger- 
man second-line  defenses,  and  these  proved  to 
be  of  a  character  so  formidable  that  all  further 
advance  without  a  preliminary  artillery  prepa- 
ration was  out  of  the  question.  And  our  role, 
that  of  troops  in  reserve,  was  to  lie  passive  in 
an  open  field  under  a  shell  fire  that  every  hour 
became  more  terrific,  while  aeroplanes  and  cap- 
tive balloons,  to  which  we  were  entirely  ex- 
posed, regulated  the  fire. 

That  night  we  spent  in  the  rain.     With  port- 


ALAN  SEEGER,  POET  OF  THE  LEGION    61 

able  picks  and  shovels  each  man  dug  himself 
in  as  well  as  possible.  The  next  day  our  con- 
centrated artillery  again  began  the  bombard- 
ment, and  again  the  fusillade  announced  the  en- 
trance of  the  infantry  into  action.  But  this 
time  only  the  wounded  appeared  coming  back, 
no  prisoners. 

Seeger's  regiment  was  held  in  reserve  during 
September  28,  the  enemy's  wire  entanglements 
before  a  piece  of  woods  to  be  attacked  not  hav- 
ing been  sufficiently  destroyed,  and  the  com- 
manding officer,  who  had  replaced  the  wounded 
colonel  of  the  regiment,  refusing  to  risk  his 
men.  In  his  review  of  the  battle  Seeger  ad- 
mitted that,  although  the  French  had  forced 
back  the  German  line  along  a  wide  front,  had 
advanced  several  kilometres  and  had  captured 
many  prisoners  and  cannon,  the  larger  aim  of 
driving  the  enemy  across  the  Aisne,  broken  and 
defeated,  had  failed. 

His  admiration  for  the  French  was,  however, 
undiminished.  Under  date  of  October  25  he 
wrote  to  his  mother: 

This  affair  only  deepened  my  admiration 
for,  my  loyalty  to,  the  French.  If  we  did  not 
entirely  succeed,  it  was  not  the  fault  of  the 


62  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

French  soldier.  He  is  a  better  man,  man  for 
man,  than  the  German.  Any  one  who  had 
seen  the  charge  of  the  Marsouins  at  Souain 
would  acknowledge  it.  Never  was  anything 
more  magnificent.  I  remember  a  captain,  badly 
wounded  in  the  leg,  as  he  passed  us,  borne  back 
on  a  litter  by  four  German  prisoners.  He  asked 
us  what  regiment  we  were,  and  when  we  told 
him,  he  cried,  "Vive  la  Legion,"  and  kept  re- 
peating "Nous  les  avons  eus.  Nous  les  avons 
eus."  He  was  suffering,  but,  oblivious  of  his 
wound,  was  still  fired  with  the  enthusiasm  of 
the  assault  and  all  radiant  with  victory. 

What  a  contrast  with  the  German  wounded, 
on  whose  faces  was  nothing  but  terror  and  de- 
spair. What  is  the  stimulus  in  their  slogans  of 
"  Gott  mit  uns"  and  "fiir  Konig  und  Vaterland" 
beside  that  of  men  really  fighting  in  defense  of 
their  country?  Whatever  be  the  force  in  in- 
ternational conflicts  of  having  justice  and  all 
the  principles  of  personal  morality  on  one's 
side,  it  at  least  gives  the  French  soldier  a 
strength  that's  like  the  strength  of  ten  against 
an  adversary  whose  weapon  is  only  brute  vio- 
lence. It  is  inconceivable  that  a  Frenchman, 
forced  to  yield,  could  behave  as  I  saw  German 
prisoners  behave,  trembling,  on  their  knees,  for 
all  the  world  like  criminals  at  length  overpow- 
ered and  brought  to  justice.  Such  men  have 
to  be  driven  to  the  assault,  or  intoxicated.  But 
the  Frenchman  who  goes  up  is  possessed  with  a 
passion  beside  which  any  of  the  other  forms  of 
experience  that  are  reckoned  to  make  life  worth 


ALAN  SEEGER,  POET  OF  THE  LEGION    63 

while  seem  pale  in  comparison.  The  modern 
prototype  of  those  whom  history  has  handed 
down  to  the  admiration  of  all  who  love  liberty 
and  heroism  in  its  defense,  it  is  a  privilege  to 
march  at  his  side — so  much  so  that  nothing  the 
world  could  give  could  make  me  wish  myself 
anywhere  else  than  where  I  am. 

Seeger  passed  the  winter  of  1915-16  with  his 
regiment  in  reserve.  An  attack  of  bronchitis 
took  him  out  of  the  service  for  three  and  a  half 
months,  but  did  not  diminish  his  ardor.  "I 
shall  go  back  the  first  of  May,"  he  wrote,  "with- 
out regrets.  These  visits  to  the  rear  confirm 
me  in  my  conviction  that  the  work  up  there  on 
the  front  is  so  far  the  most  interesting  work 
that  a  man  can  be  doing  at  this  moment,  that 
nothing  else  counts  in  comparison."  He  passed 
a  happy  month  in  Paris.  "I  lived,"  he  wrote, 
"as  though  I  were  saying  good-by  to  life,"  as 
indeed  he  was. 

After  his  return  to  the  front-line  trenches 
Seeger  found  time  to  write  several  sonnets 
which  he  sent  to  his  "marraine,"  Mrs.  Weeks. 
In  two  days,  moreover,  in  the  intervals  of  ex- 
hausting work  with  pick  and  shovel  in  boyau- 
digging,  he  composed  the  "Ode  in  Memory  of 


64  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

the  American  Volunteers  Fallen  for  France," 
without  doubt  the  most  noteworthy  poem 
which  any  American  had  contributed  up  to 
that  time  to  the  permanent  literature  of  the 
war.  He  hoped  to  read  it  on  Decoration  Day 
before  the  statue  of  Washington  and  Lafayette 
in  Paris,  but  this  rare  privilege  was  denied 
him,  owing  to  the  failure  of  his  permission  for 
forty-eight  hours'  leave  to  arrive  in  time.  His 
last  letter  was  dated  June  28,  and,  anticipating 
active  fighting,  it  was  characteristic  of  him  to 
end  it  with  these  courageous  words: 

I  am  glad  to  be  going  in  first  wave.  If  you 
are  in  this  thing  at  all  it  is  best  to  be  in  to  the 
limit.  And  this  is  the  supreme  experience. 

Seeger  was  killed  in  the  successful  attack  on 
Belloy-en-Santerre,  which  the  Legion  made 
late  on  the  afternoon  of  July  4.  He  was  in  the 
first  line  of  his  company  that  swept  across  the 
plain  before  the  village,  and,  with  many  of  his 
comrades,  was  mowed  down  by  a  cross-fire  of 
German  machine-guns. 

"Mortally  wounded/'  wrote  a  participant  in 
the  attack  in  La  Liberte  of  Paris,  "it  was  his 


ALAN  SEEGER,  POET  OF  THE  LEGION    65 

fate  to  see  his  comrades  pass  him  in  their  splen- 
did charge  and  to  forego  the  supreme  moment 
of  victory  to  which  he  had  looked  forward 
through  so  many  months  of  bitterest  hardship 
and  trial.  Together  with  those  other  generous 
wounded  of  the  Legion  fallen,  he  cheered  on 
the  fresh  files  as  they  came  up  to  the  attack  and 
listened  anxiously  for  the  cries  of  triumph  which 
should  tell  of  their  success. 

"It  was  no  moment  for  rescue.  In  that  zone 
of  deadly  cross-fire  there  could  be  but  one 
thought — to  get  beyond  it  alive,  if  possible. 
So  it  was  not  until  the  next  day  that  his  body 
was  found  and  buried,  with  scores  of  his  com- 
rades, on  the  battle-field  of  Belloy -en-San  terre." 

As  William  Archer  well  remarks  in  the  intro- 
duction to  the  volume  of  Seeger's  "Poems,'* 
"He  wrote  his  own  best  epitaph  in  the  'Ode'": 

And  on  those  furthest  rims  of  hallowed  ground 
Where  the  forlorn,  the  gallant  charge  expires, 
When  the  slain  bugler  has  long  ceased  to  sound, 
And  on  the  tangled  wires 
The  last  wild  rally  staggers,  crumbles,  stops, 
Withered  beneath  the  shrapnel's  iron  showers: — 
Now  heaven  be  thanked,  we  gave  a  few  brave  drops, 
Now  heaven  be  thanked,  a  few  brave  drops  were  ours. 


vn 

VICTOR  CHAPMAN  AS  A  LEGIONNAIRE 

"\  7ICTOR  CHAPMAN'S  Letters  from 
V  France,"  dealing  with  his  service  for 
ten  months  in  the  Foreign  Legion,  after  which 
he  was  transferred  to  the  aviation  corps,  must 
be  read  in  the  light  of  the  illuminating  memoir 
which  his  father,  John  J.  Chapman,  prefaces 
to  the  volume.  By  far  the  most  significant 
portion  of  this  memoir  is  the  vivid  portrait  of 
the  boy's  mother,  half  Italian  by  blood  but 
wholly  Italian  in  temperament  and  in  the 
traits  which  she  bequeathed  to  her  son. 

Young  Chapman  was  graduated  at  Harvard 
in  1913.  Before  entering  college  he  had  spent 
a  year  in  France  and  Germany,  and  on  being 
graduated  he  became  a  Beaux-Arts  student  of 
architecture  in  Paris.  When  the  war  broke  out 
he  and  his  father  and  stepmother — his  own 
mother  had  died  when  he  was  six — fled  from 
Paris  to  London. 

66 


VICTOR  CHAPMAN  AS  A  LfiGIONNAIRE     67 

Even  when  he  was  a  boy  Chapman,  accord- 
ing to  his  father,  never  really  felt  that  he  was 
alive,  except  when  he  was  in  danger.  He  did 
not  care  for  books  or  for  sports,  but  he  was  pas- 
sionately fond  of  color  and  scenery.  "If  you 
could  place  him,"  says  his  father,  "in  a  position 
of  danger  and  let  him  watch  scenery,  he  was  in 
heaven.  I  do  not  think  he  was  ever  completely 
happy  in  his  life  till  the  day  he  got  his  flying 
papers."  From  his  mother  he  got  his  large 
frame  and  his  corresponding  physical  energy, 
which  he  loved  to  expend  lavishly  in  the  service 
of  his  friends.  He  "could  eat  anything,  sleep 
on  anything,  lift  anything,  endure  anything," 
says  his  father.  "He  never  had  enough  of 
roughing  it  till  he  joined  the  Foreign  Legion." 

Chapman  was  in  the  Legion  from  the  end  of 
September,  1914,  until  August,  1915.  During 
tJbis  period  his  battalion,  though  often  under 
fire,  was  not  actively  engaged.  He  found  the 
inactivity  of  trench  life  irksome,  and  felt  that 
he  was  wasting  his  time.  His  chief  interests 
were  the  odd  characters  in  the  Legion  with 
whom  he  made  friends,  and  the  scenery.  Here 
is  his  description  of  the  Christmas  truce  of 


68  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

1914,  when,  in  certain  parts  of  the  line,  the  Ger- 
mans and  the  Legionnaires  fraternized: 

Xmas  in  the  trenches  was  interesting  but  not 
too  exciting.  Beginning  the  eve  before,  "con- 
versations" in  the  form  of  calls.  "Boches,"  "ga 
va,"  etc.  In  response:  "Bon  camarade"  "ciga- 
rettes," "nous  boirons  champagne  a  Paris,"  etc. 
Christmas  morning  a  Russian  up  the  line  who 
spoke  good  German  wished  them  the  greetings 
of  the  season,  to  which  the  Boches  responded 
that  instead  of  nice  wishes  they  would  be  very 
grateful  to  the  French  if  the  latter  buried  their 
compatriot  who  had  lain  before  their  trenches 
for  the  last  two  months.  The  Russian  walked 
out  to  see  if  it  were  so,  returned  to  the  line,  got 
a  French  officer  and  a  truce  was  established. 
The  burying  funeral  performed,  a  German 
Colonel  distributed  cigars  and  cigarettes  and 
another  German  officer  took  a  picture  of  the 
group.  We,  of  course,  were  one  half-mile  down 
the  line  so  did  not  see  the  ceremony,  though  our 
Lieutenant  attended.  No  shooting  was  inter- 
changed all  day,  and  last  night  absolute  still- 
ness, though  we  were  warned  to  be  on  the  alert. 
This  morning,  Nedim,  a  picturesque,  childish 
Turk,  began  again  standing  on  the  trenches 
and  yelling  at  the  opposite  side.  Vesconsole- 
dose,  a  cautious  Portuguese,  warned  him  not 
to  expose  himself  so,  and  since  he  spoke  Ger- 
man made  a  few  remarks  showing  his  head. 
He  turned  to  get  down  and — fell !  a  bullet  hav- 
ing entered  the  back  of  his  skull:  groans,  a  pud- 
dle of  blood. 


VICTOR  CHAPMAN  AS  A  LEGIONNAIRE     69 

Two  months  later  Chapman  sent  his  father 
this  pen-portrait  of  Nedim: 

There  was  Nedim,  Nedim  Bey,  a  Turk — a 
black,  heavy-faced  Turk,  and  a  typical  Asiatic. 
He  always  wore  two  passes-montagnes,  one  pulled 
down  round  his  chin  so  that  his  grizzled  un- 
kempt beard  and  nose  protruded  through.  I 
believe  he  had  been  sent  by  the  Turkish  Gov- 
ernment to  study,  and  had  worked  in  the  French 
cannon  factories.  At  any  rate  the  Lieutenant 
had  a  high  admiration  for  him  which  no  one 
could  understand.  His  French  was  wonderful ! 
The  article  did  not  exist,  but  he  was  fond  of  the 
preposition  de;  as,  mon  de  pain.  He  got  per- 
mission at  both  places  to  build  a  separate  hole 
for  himself.  After  working  night  and  day  till 
it  was  finished  he  would  light  a  roaring  fire  and 
sleep  in  an  atmosphere  warm  enough  to  boil 
an  egg.  At  the  other  position  he  had  a  dug-out 
about  five  feet  long  by  two  high,  with  a  grate 
fire  at  the  end  of  it.  And  he  slept  with  his 
head  against  the  fireplace !  His  love  for  fire 
resulted  in  his  burning  ends  and  patches  of  all 
of  his  clothes,  and  about  his  abri  were  always 
strewn  pieces  of  burnt  sacks.  .  .  .  He  made 
an  indestructible  creneau  from  which  he  pumped 
shot.  Inevitably  the  Germans  soon  located  it 
and  the  other  day  he  was  hit  in  the  head  and 
evacuated. 

Chapman's  chief  resource  in  the  way  of  in- 
tellectual companionship  was  a  Polish  Jew 


70  IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

named   Kohn.     Of  him  he   wrote   as  follows, 
under  date  of  January  30,  1915: 

My  great  joy,  though  vexation  occasionally, 
is  Kohn.  Though  of  such  a  lovable  and  child- 
like innocence  of  character,  he  is  a  softy  from 
having  been  always  pampered.  His  learning 
is  immense.  I  picked  up  a  New  York  Times 
last  night — article  by  G.  B.  Shaw.  So  I  cas- 
ually asked  Kohn,  who  was  entirely  between 
the  sack  curtains,  what  kind  of  Socialist  was 
Shaw?  "A  Fabianist,"  and  with  that  he  gave 
me  an  account  of  the  growth  of  Socialism  in 
England,  how  it  influenced  the  continents — the 
briefest  kind  of  a  sketch  of  the  points  of  diver- 
gence between  Socialism  and  Anarchism.  Well, 
I  was  numbed  by  slumber  soon  and  had  to  beg 
him  to  leave  off  till  I  was  in  a  more  receptive 
mood.  And  Political  Economy  is  not  his  line, 
for  he  says  mathematics  is  his  specialty.  With 
that  he  is  of  an  artistic  temperament,  almost 
mystic,  in  his  way  of  doing  things.  Heredia 
used  to  say  that  Kohn  did  the  rude  physical 
work  as  though  he  was  performing  a  religious 
rite:  in  fact,  with  such  devotion  and  zeal  that 
he  soon  wore  himself  down  and  became  more 
subject  than  any  of  us  to  the  cliche  we  all  suf- 
fered from. 

Three  weeks  later,  in  a  letter  to  his  uncle, 
Chapman  gave  the  details  of  the  death  of  his 
friend  Kohn,  "shot  beside  us  in  front  of  our 


VICTOR  CHAPMAN  AS  A  LEGIONNAIRE     71 

abri  while  taking  observations  with  field-glasses 
of  hills  to  the  northeast."  Chapman  missed  his 
companionship  very  much. 

After  his  regiment  was  transferred  to  Alsace 
Chapman  met  several  Americans  who  were  in 
other  regiments  of  the  Foreign  Legion — Alan 
Seeger,  Henry  Farnsworth,  and  David  King. 
In  the  company  of  these  men,  all  of  whom,  as  it 
happened,  had  been  at  Harvard,  and  in  a  beau- 
tiful valley  among  the  foot-hills  of  the  Vosges, 
Chapman  was  "very  happy."  He  was,  how- 
ever, to  attain  to  his  highest  point  of  happiness, 
as  will  be  revealed  later,  as  an  aviator. 


PART  II 
WITH    FAMOUS    BRITISH    REGIMENTS 


VIII 
JOHN  P.  POE,  OF  THE  FIRST  BLACK  WATCH 

ON  the  official  records  of  Princeton  he  was 
known  as  John  Prentiss  Poe,  Jr.,  of  Bal- 
timore, of  the  class  of  1895.  To  his  college 
mates  he  was  known  as  Johnny  Poe.  He  was 
eminently  a  man  of  deeds,  not  words.  When  in 
his  freshman  year  he  was  elected  president  of 
his  class,  chiefly  for  the  reason,  rival  candidates 
alleged,  that  he  was  "the  homeliest  man  in  the 
whole  bunch,"  this  was  his  speech  of  accep- 
tance: 

Fellows,  I  am  proud  of  the  honor  you  have 
bestowed  upon  me.  My  face  can't  be  ruined 
mach,  so  I'll  go  in  all  the  battles  with  you  head 
first.  Nominations  are  now  in  order  for  vice- 
president. 

This  was  the  martial  spirit  that  animated 
Johnny  Poe,  not  only  during  his  college  career, 
when,  like  his  brothers,  he  won  fame  on  the 
football-field,  but  throughout  his  whole  life. 

75 


76     WITH  FAMOUS  BRITISH  REGIMENTS 

The  softness  and  ease  of  peace  had  no  attrac- 
tions for  him;  his  one  ambition  was  to  get  into 
the  thick  of  a  good  fight,  "head  first." 

The  army  offered  the  best  outlet  for  his 
superabundant  energies.  So  in  the  war  with 
Spain,  in  1898,  we  find  him  in  Cuba  with  the 
Fifth  Maryland  Regiment.  But  he  participated 
in  no  fighting.  The  taste,  however,  which  he 
had  got  of  army  life  made  him  hungry  for 
more,  and  so,  in  the  hope  of  seeing  some  real 
fighting,  he  joined  the  regulars,  and  in  1899  he 
was  in  the  Philippines,  a  private  in  the  23d 
United  States  Infantry.  But  he  was  again  dis- 
appointed; the  campaign  was  tame.  He  did 
not  give  up,  however.  In  1903  he  served  with 
a  detachment  of  Kentucky  militia  in  the  sup- 
pression of  a  mountain  feud. 

Late  in  the  same  year,  in  November,  when 
there  was  considerable  excitement  on  the  isth- 
mus because  of  the  revolt  of  Panama  from  Co- 
lombia, Poe  thought  that  "the  real  thing" 
might  be  within  his  grasp,  if  the  United  States 
Government  sent  troops  to  the  scene.  Accord- 
ingly he  went  to  Washington  and  wrote  a  char- 
acteristic letter  to  the  commandant  of  the  Ma- 


JOHN  P.  POE,  OF  THE  BLACK  WATCH  77 

rine  Corps,  offering  to  enlist  for  active  service. 
The  letter  was  as  follows: 

I  understand  that  the  Dixie  is  to  take  a 
battalion  of  marines  to  Colon  from  League 
Island  next  week.  ...  I  wouldn't  mind  en- 
listing except  that  I  might  be  put  to  guarding 
some  colony  of  land  crabs  200  or  300  miles  from 
where  the  fighting  was  going  on,  as  in  the  Phil- 
ippines, where  the  only  thing  our  company  did 
was  to  make  the  Sultan  of  Sulu  sign  a  receipt 
for  the  125  dollars  Uncle  Sam  gave  him.  If  I 
were  to  go  there,  to  Panama,  and  not  see  any 
service,  I  would  feel  that  if  I  were  to  go  to 
Hades  for  the  warmth,  the  fires  would  be  at 
least  banked,  if  not  altogether  extinguished, 
owing  to  furnaces  being  repaired.  I  was  in- 
troduced to  some  cow-punchers  in  New  Mexico 
by  Mike  Furness,  '91,  as  "the  hero  of  two  wars, 
whose  only  wounds  are  scars  from  lying  on  his 
bunk  too  much."  I  must  outlive  that  reputa- 
tion* 

Impressed  by  the  unusual  tone  of  this  letter, 
General  George  F.  Elliott  took  Poe  himself  over 
to  John  D.  Long,  then  Secretary  of  the  Navy, 
and  laid  the  case  before  him.  Secretary  Long 
was  so  amused  by  the  letter  and  so  pleased  by 
the  writer's  soldierly  spirit  that  he  ordered  the 
necessary  arrangements  to  be  made  for  Poe  to 


78     WITH  FAMOUS  BRITISH  REGIMENTS 

join  the  marines.  He  sailed  on  the  Dixie  and 
was  made  a  sergeant.  He  refused,  however,  to 
accept  the  position,  preferring  to  remain  in  the 
ranks.  His  reason  was  that  he  did  not  care  for 
authority  and  disliked  responsibility,  even  the 
small  share  that  would  attach  to  a  non-commis- 
sioned office.  He  wanted  to  enjoy  the  pleasure 
of  fighting  independently,  as  an  individual, 
without  the  care  of  controlling  other  men. 
Again,  however,  he  was  thwarted  in  his  desire 
to  get  into  active  service;  and  Poe  regarded 
active  service,  according  to  Captain  Frank  E. 
Evans,  editor  of  the  Marine  Corps  Gazette,  from 
which  the  foregoing  facts  are  taken,  as  "the 
acme  of  adventure,  the  greatest  game  in  the 
world."  There  was  no  fighting  of  any  conse- 
quence on  Panama,  and  he  returned  to  the 
United  States. 

Poe  had  to  wait  until  1914  for  the  great  op- 
portunity of  his  life,  which  the  war  in  Europe 
presented.  At  last  he  saw  his  chance  to  get  his 
fill  of  real  fighting  in  what  promised  to  be  the 
most  stupendous  war  of  all  time.  He  went  to 
Canada  immediately  and  volunteered.  Reach- 
ing England,  he  was  transferred  to  the  heavy 


JOHN  P.  POE,  OF  THE  BLACK  WATCH      79 

artillery.  A  little  experience,  however,  in  this 
branch  of  the  service  was  enough  for  him. 
Long-range  fighting  was  not  to  his  taste,  and  he 
again  succeeded  in  transferring  to  the  First 
Black  Watch,  the  Scottish  regiment  famous  in 
Great  Britain's  military  annals,  with  a  record 
of  more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  of 
service. 

Thus  in  the  spring  of  1915  Poe  was  endeavor- 
ing to  make  himself  at  home  among  the  "Ladies 
from  Hell,"  as  the  Germans  later  dubbed  these 
kilted  Scots,  whom  they  found  to  be  fierce 
fighters — a  member  of  A  Company,  3d  Platoon, 
First  Black  Watch,  stationed  in  the  trenches  in 
northern  France.  Late  in  the  summer  of  the 
same  year  Andrew  C.  Imbrie,  secretary  of  the 
Princeton  class  of  '95,  received  a  letter  from 
Poe,  dated  July  24,  in  which  he  acknowledged 
the  receipt  of  no  fewer  than  one  hundred  and 
thirty  post-cards,  "so  far,"  from  his  classmates, 
the  suggestion  for  such  a  demonstration  of  the 
affection  and  esteem  in  which  Johnny  Poe  was 
held  by  his  fellows  having  been  made  by  Imbrie 
in  the  previous  spring.  Poe  wrote:  "I  am  try- 
ing to  feel  more  at  home  in  a  kilt;  and  while 


80     WITH  FAMOUS  BRITISH  REGIMENTS 

they  are  cool,  the  legs  get  dirty  for  quite  a  way 
above  the  knees."     He  went  on  as  follows: 

Of  course  we  are  going  to  win;  but  the 
"Limburgers"  are  putting  up  a  great  fight. 
What  business  have  the  "Square  Heads"  to 
start  on  the  downward  course  the  Empire  which 
weathered  the  Spanish  Armada,  the  Dutch 
under  De  Ruyter  and  Von  Trump,  the  "  Grand 
Monarch"  and  Napoleon? 

Aren't  you  sorry  I'm  such  a  shark  on  history  ? 

The  Black  Watch  carried  a  German  trench 
on  May  9th  after  several  regiments  had  tried 
and  failed.  It  was  taken  with  the  piper  play- 
ing the  "Hieland  Laddie." 

A  month  after  this  letter  was  written  Johnny 
Poe  was  killed  in  a  charge  of  the  Black  Watch 
before  Hullock,  in  northern  France,  eight  or 
ten  miles  east  of  Bethune,  a  part  of  the  great 
drive  of  the  Allies  in  the  last  week  of  Septem- 
ber. A  letter  to  Poe's  brother,  Edgar  Allan 
Poe,  from  the  captain,  D.  Lumsden,  of  Poe's 
company,  dated  November  25,  1915,  and  repro- 
duced in  the  Princeton  Alumni  Weekly,  gave 
some  details  as  to  how  Poe  met  his  end : 

In  reply  to  your  letter  of  the  llth  of  No- 
vember, I  have  made  inquiries  about  your 


JOHN  P.  POE,  OF  THE  BLACK  WATCH      81 

brother's  death.  He  was  killed  on  September 
25  in  the  big  engagement,  while  he  was  work- 
ing with  brigade  bombers.  He  was  advancing 
with  bombs  to  another  regiment  when  he  was 
hit  by  a  bullet  and  killed  instantly.  This  hap- 
pened roughly  at  7  a.m.,  soon  after  the  great 
advance  began,  and  he  is  buried  with  several  of 
his  comrades  on  the  left  of  the  place  called 
"Lone  Tree,"  and  a  mound  marks  the  grave. 

I  was  greatly  grieved  to  hear  that  he  had 
been  killed,  as  he  was  all  that  a  good  man  and 
soldier  could  be.  He  was  the  most  willing 
worker  in  my  company  and  was  in  my  platoon 
before  I  took  command  of  the  company  when 
our  captain  was  killed. 

I  offer  you  and  all  his  relatives  and  friends 
my  deepest  sympathies  on  your  great  loss.  But 
it  is  a  comfort  to  think  that  he  had  lived  a  fine 
life  in  the  finest  way  a  man  can. 

The  evidence  of  another  officer  is  quoted  that 
Poe  "was  the  most  popular  fellow  in  the  com- 
pany, having  been  offered  promotion,  but  he 
refused  it,"  preferring  as  always  to  fight  in  the 
ranks.  Poe  Field  at  Princeton,  with  its  memo- 
rial flagstaff,  from  which  the  national  colors 
always  fly,  attests  Poe's  popularity  among  his 
college  mates.  His  relation  to  football  was  such 
that  there  was  a  peculiar  appropriateness  in 
the  Memorial  Football  Cup  which  in  1916  his 


82     WITH  FAMOUS  BRITISH  REGIMENTS 

mother  presented  to  Princeton,  to  be  given 
each  year  to  that  member  of  the  team  who 
exemplified  in  the  highest  degree  the  traits 
which  were  conspicuous  in  Poe  himself — (1) 
loyalty  and  devotion  to  Princeton's  football  in- 
terests; (2)  courage,  manliness,  self -control,  and 
modesty;  (3)  perseverance  and  determination 
under  discouraging  conditions,  and  (4)  obser- 
vance of  the  rules  of  the  game  and  fairness 
toward  opponents. 


IX 

DILLWYN  P.  STARR,  OF  THE  COLDSTREAM 
GUARDS 

IT  is  doubtful  if  any  one  of  the  American 
youths  who  entered  the  war  in  its  early 
stages  in  behalf  of  the  Allies  saw  more  varied 
service  than  did  Dillwyn  Parrish  Starr,  of  Phila- 
delphia, whose  father,  Dr.  Louis  Starr,  has  had 
printed  for  private  circulation  a  memorial  vol- 
ume, "The  War  Story  of  Dillwyn  Parrish 
Starr."  For  at  first  Starr  drove  an  ambulance 
in  Richard  Norton's  corps  in  northern  France 
and  in  Flanders;  then  he  served  with  an  English 
armored  motor-car  squadron,  under  the  com- 
mand of  the  Duke  of  Westminster,  in  Flanders; 
then,  from  early  in  the  summer  of  1915  until 
November,  he  was  in  charge  of  a  motor-car 
squadron  in  Gallipoli;  finally  on  his  return  he 
joined  the  Coldstream  Guards,  accepted  a  com- 
mission as  second  lieutenant,  and  was  killed 
while  gallantly  leading  two  platoons  in  a  charge 

88 


84     WITH  FAMOUS  BRITISH  REGIMENTS 

on  September  15,  1916,  having  seen  two  years 
of  varied  service.  At  the  time  of  his  death  he 
had  reached  the  rank  of  first  lieutenant. 

Starr's  desire  at  the  outset  was,  as  he  ex- 
pressed it,  "to  see  the  war,"  and  so  great  was 
his  eagerness  to  get  to  the  field  of  operations 
that  he  shipped  as  a  sailor  on  the  liner  Hamburg, 
which  the  American  Red  Cross  sent  abroad  the 
middle  of  September,  1914.  By  the  end  of 
October  he  was  driving  an  ambulance,  a  power- 
ful Mercedes,  on  the  Belgian  frontier.  Starr's 
experience  in  the  ambulance  service  opened  his 
eyes  to  the  nature  of  the  struggle  upon  which 
the  Allies  had  entered  and  to  the  real  character 
of  their  enemy,  and  made  him  long,  as  he  said 
later,  "to  get  at  them  with  cold  steel." 

When,  therefore,  an  opportunity  came  to 
effect  a  transfer  to  the  British  Armored  Car 
Division,  he  grasped  it  eagerly.  Early  in 
March,  1915,  Starr  was  near  the  British  front 
lines  in  northern  France,  as  one  of  the  crew  of  a 
heavy  armored  car  carrying  a  three-pound  gun, 
in  the  squadron  under  the  Duke  of  Westmin- 
ster. An  entry  in  his  diary,  with  its  amusing 
anticlimax  in  the  last  sentence,  describes  the 


DILLWYN  PARRISH  STARR  85 

work  of  his  car  in  a  fight  near  Neuve  Chapelle, 
southeast  of  Armentieres : 

March  13.  Hot  day!  Up  at  3  A.  M.  and 
on  guard.  Shells  still  passing  over  and  falling 
in  town  [Laventie].  The  Duke  came  at  9 
o'clock  to  take  us  out.  Went  in  same  direction 
as  yesterday  afternoon  but  to  more  advanced 
post.  Heavy  fighting  going  on.  Took  up  po- 
sition 200  yards  south  of  cross-roads  at  Fau- 
quissart,  behind  some  buildings  that  were  half 
battered  down.  Got  range  of  house  occupied 
by  Germans  who  were  holding  up  our  advance 
and  fired  forty-two  shells,  all  telling  and  driving 
them  out.  They  were  shot  down  by  our  in- 
fantry, who  occupied  what  was  left  of  the 
building  a  short  time  afterward.  Enemy  artil- 
lery found  us,  and  their  shells  began  dropping 
all  about  us;  also  under  rifle  fire  and  had  to 
keep  cover.  Shells  were  striking  ten  yards 
away  in  the  mud,  and  one  splashed  water  into 
the  car.  Finally  obliged  to  back  away,  as  road 
too  cramped  to  turn;  moved  very  slowly  and  it 
seemed  we  were  going  to  get  it  sure — close 
squeeze!  Got  back  to  Laventie  at  11  o'clock, 
and  in  afternoon  painted  car  and  had  my  hair  cut. 

Like  Johnny  Poe  of  the  Black  Watch,  Dill 
Starr,  as  he  was  called  by  his  classmates  at 
Harvard,  where  he  was  graduated  in  1908,  was 
a  football  player  of  note,  having  won  a  place 


86      WITH  FAMOUS  BRITISH  REGIMENTS 

on  the  university  team.  A  far-away  echo  of  his 
gridiron  days  is  heard  occasionally  in  his  diary. 
Thus  he  notes,  in  anticipation  of  immediate 
active  service: 

In  afternoon  were  told  to  get  some  sleep  and 
I  did,  sitting  in  chair.  At  four  o'clock  had  tea. 
Thinking  of  going  out  gives  me  the  same  feeling 
as  before  a  football  match. 

Nearly  a  year  and  a  half  later,  when  he  was 
a  lieutenant  in  the  Coldstream  Guards,  in 
France,  a  match  game  of  soccer,  of  which  Starr 
knew  little  or  nothing,  was  arranged  with  a 
team  from  the  crack  rival  regiment  in  the 
British  service,  the  Grenadier  Guards.  Starr 
was  persuaded,  much  against  his  will,  to  play 
with  his  fellow  Coldstreamers,  with  this  result: 

The  match  with  the  Grenadiers  came  out  a 
tie.  I  was  lucky  enough  to  make  a  goal  for 
our  side  in  the  last  thirty  seconds.  The  score 
was  three  all. 

In  May  Starr  was  gazetted  sublieutenant  in 
the  Royal  Navy  Volunteer  Reserves,  and  in 
June,  after  a  period  of  further  study  in  gunnery, 
he  sailed,  with  another  officer  and  twenty-five 


DILLWYN  PARRISH  STARR  87 

i 

men,  for  Gallipoli.  The  evidence  of  Starr's  let- 
ters and  diary  will  be  valuable  to  the  historian 
who  seeks  the  causes  for  the  ghastly  failure  of 
that  campaign.  They  were,  in  a  sentence, 
according  to  Starr,  bad  organization,  bad  man- 
agement, lack  of  foresight  and  lack  of  energy. 
Having  landed,  the  middle  of  July,  1915,  at 
Cape  Helles,  he  outlined  the  situation  as  it 
appeared  to  him  a  week  later: 

This  is  the  most  wonderful  looking  place  I 
ever  saw,  the  whole  ground  is  covered  with 
dugouts,  and  even  the  mules  have  their  little 
shelters.  The  hill,  Achi  Baba,  is  only  about 
three  miles  away,  so  you  can  imagine  how  far 
we  have  advanced.  On  the  first  day  of  the 
landing  we  were  further  advanced  than  we  are 
now;  the  troops,  you  see,  had  no  food,  water, 
etc.,  so  they  had  to  fall  back  after  the  first  rush. 
The  Turks  shell  the  Peninsula  very  often,  but 
don't  do  an  awful  lot  of  damage. 

Of  the  costly  and  futile  attack  by  the  British 
on  the  hill  of  Achi  Baba,  early  in  the  following 
August,  Starr  wrote: 

Well,  the  attack  has  been  made  and  was  a 
complete  failure  here.  Almost  four  thousand 
men  went  out  and  very  few  came  back.  Some 


88     WITH  FAMOUS  BRITISH  REGIMENTS 

monitors  and  ships  bombarded  Achi  Baba  for 
two  hours.  The  Turks  during  this  moved 
down  into  a  gully  and  came  back  after  it  to 
their  second  line  and  massed  four  deep  to  meet 
our  men.  I  was  on  higher  ground  with  four 
guns  and  could  clearly  see  our  charges  of  the 
6th  and  the  morning  of  the  7th.  The  men 
went  out  in  a  hail  of  bullets  and  it  was  a  won- 
derful sight  to  see  them.  Many  of  them  fell 
close  to  our  parapets,  though  a  good  number 
reached  the  Turkish  trenches,  there  to  be  killed. 
On  the  morning  of  the  7th  the  Turks  made  a 
counter  attack  and  drove  our  men  out  of  the 
lightly-held  trenches  they  had  taken.  Our 
guns  fortunately  took  a  lot  of  them;  my  two 
guns  fired  a  thousand  rounds  into  their  closely 
formed  mass. 


Under  orders  Starr  returned  to  England  late 
in  November,  to  find  that  the  Armored  Car 
Division  had  been  disbanded.  At  the  sugges- 
tion of  his  college  mate,  Walter  G.  Oakman, 
Jr.,  who  had  been  with  him  in  both  the  ambu- 
lance service  and  the  Armored  Car  Division, 
and  wTho  was  then  in  the  Coldstream  Guards, 
Starr  decided  to  accept  a  commission,  which 
had  been  offered  to  him,  as  second  lieutenant  in 
the  same  regiment,  one  of  the  most  famous  in 
the  British  Army.  He  thereupon  went  into 


DILLWYN  PARRISH  STARR  89 

strict  training  which  lasted  six  months,  until 
midsummer,  1916.  Having  similar  tastes,  espe- 
cially in  sports,  he  fraternized  cordially  with  his 
fellow  officers,  fell  in  easily  with  the  traditions 
of  the  regiment,  and  looked  forward  with  eager- 
ness to  the  time  when  he  could  lead  his  men 
in  a  charge.  To  do  this  was  the  highest  point 
which  his  ambition  as  a  soldier  touched. 

The  regiment  saw  some  trench  work  in  Au- 
gust and  early  in  September,  but  was  in  no 
serious  engagement  until  the  middle  of  the 
month.  Under  date  of  September  11,  four 
days  before  he  was  killed,  Starr  wrote  a  letter 
to  his  friend,  Harold  S.  Vanderbilt,  in  the 
course  of  which  he  said: 

I  came  out  to  France  on  the  llth  day  of 
July  and  am  now  in  the  2nd  Battalion  Cold- 
stream  Guards.  We  expect  to  have  a  very  hot 
time  within  the  next  few  days.  I  believe  we 
are  going  to  hop  the  parapet,  so  there  is  a  good 
chance  of  my  getting  back  to  England  with  a 
"blighty"  within  the  next  week.  There  is  a 
lot  of  hell  popping  about  here  and  the  artillery 
fire  is  something  stupendous. 

Things  are  looking  a  little  better  for  the  Allies 
now,  although  it  is  not  over  yet  by  a  long 
shot. 


90     WITH  FAMOUS  BRITISH  REGIMENTS 

The  last  letter  from  him  was  written  the  fol- 
lowing day,  September  12.  In  it  Starr  said: 

They  hope  here  that  we  shall  break  through 
the  German  lines,  but  I  have  my  doubts.  There 
is  a  chance,  however,  and  if  we  do  it  will  make 
all  the  difference  in  the  world. 

They  didn't  break  through,  but  they  attained 
their  immediate  objective,  making  possible  the 
capture  of  Les-Bceufs  the  next  day. 

On  the  15th  the  three  battalions  of  the  Cold- 
stream  Guards  attacked  the  enemy  near  Ginchy, 
a  few  miles  east  of  Albert.  They  drove  the 
Germans  out  of  their  three  lines  of  trenches, 
but  at  heavy  cost,  a  nest  of  machine-guns, 
which  the  British  tanks  had  failed  to  silence, 
taking  a  frightful  toll  of  lives.  Lieutenant 
Starr,  leading  his  two  platoons,  was  caught  by 
this  enfilading  fire  and  killed  as  he  sprang  upon 
the  parapet  of  the  first  German  trench. 

In  a  letter  written  from  the  hospital  to  Dr. 
Starr,  Corporal  Philip  Andrews,  of  Starr's  pla- 
toon, described  this  charge: 

The  order  then  came  to  charge  the  trench; 
in  that  he  got  hit  while  leading  us  in  the  charge. 


91 

I  did  not  see  him  fall,  but  was  told  while  in  the 
captured  trench  that  he  had  been  shot  through 
the  heart.  We  all  knew  we  had  lost  a  splendid 
leader  who  knew  no  fear.  He  knew,  and  so 
did  I,  that  we  should  have  a  terrible  fight  to 
gain  the  trench,  but  he  was  cool  and  cheered 
up  all  his  men,  and  I  am  sorry  he  did  not  live 
to  see  the  spirit  he  had  put  into  them  in  the 
final  charge.  He  died  a  hero,  always  in  front 
of  us. 

Colonel  Drummond-Hay,  commanding  the 
Coldstream  Guards,  wrote  to  Dr.  Starr: 

Previously  to  the  War  we  had  ties  which  kept 
the  Regiment  in  very  friendly  touch  with  the 
U.  S.  A.,  but  now  we  are  bound  to  you  by  a 
very  much  closer  bond,  your  son,  and  others 
like  him,  who  never  rested  till  they  were  able 
to  give  us  their  active  assistance  in  upholding 
the  honor  of  the  Regiment  in  this  tremendous 
War,  and  this  will  never  be  forgotten  in  the 
Regiment,  as  long  as  its  name  endures. 

To  have  voluntarily  given  his  life  as  your  son 
has  done  for  the  cause  of  right  and  in  support 
of  an  abstract  principle,  is  quite  the  noblest 
thing  a  man  can  do.  It  is  far  higher  than  giv- 
ing it  in  fighting  to  safeguard  one's  own  Hearth 
and  Home,  and  for  the  maintenance  of  the 
Empire  of  which  one  is  one's  self  a  unit.  And, 
believe  me,  we  greatly  appreciate  this  spirit  in 
which  so  many  Americans  are  fighting  on  our 
side. 


PART  HI 
THE  AMERICAN  RED  CROSS  IN  SERVIA 


X 

DR.  RYAN  UNDER  FIRE  AT  BELGRADE 


young  American  volunteers  in  the 
•*•  trenches  held  no  monopoly  of  the  quality 
of  high  courage  in  the  face  of  great  danger. 
The  surgeons  and  nurses  of  the  American  Red 
Cross  possessed  this  trait  also.  They  had  occa- 
sion to  show  it  in  Servia  when,  at  the  outbreak 
of  the  war,  the  Austrians  fell  upon  that  unfor- 
tunate little  country,  which  sent  out  a  cry  for 
help  that  the  American  Red  Cross  was  quick 
to  answer.  Early  in  September,  1914,  the 
first  of  three  Servian  units  sailed  from  New 
York  and,  reaching  Greece,  went  direct  to  Bel- 
grade. The  surgeon  in  charge  was  Dr.  Edward 
W.  Ryan,  of  Scranton,  a  graduate  of  the  Ford- 
ham  University  Medical  School  and  a  man  of 
wide  experience  in  administrative  as  well  as  in 
hospital  work.  Dr.  Ryan's  two  assistants,  also 
graduates  of  the  same  medical  school,  were  Dr. 
James  C.  Donovan  and  Dr.  William  P.  Ahera. 

95 


96     THE  AMERICAN  RED  CROSS  IN  SERVIA 

They  were  accompanied  by  twelve  trained 
nurses  and  carried  abundant  hospital  supplies. 
Under  date  of  October  20,  four  days  after 
the  arrival  of  the  unit  in  Belgrade,  Dr.  Ryan 
wrote  to  the  Red  Cross  headquarters  in  Wash- 
ington as  follows  of  the  conditions  as  he  found 
them: 

We  arrived  at  this  place  on  October  16  and 
were  immediately  put  in  charge  of  the  big  hos- 
pital here.  Since  starting  we  have  had  no  time 
for  anything  but  work  and  sleep.  Many  of  the 
wounded  had  not  been  dressed  for  several  days, 
and  as  we  have  about  150  and  it  is  necessary 
to  dress  them  every  day,  it  is  11  o'clock  before 
we  get  through  and  some  nights  later.  .  .  . 
The  cases  turned  over  to  us  are  in  many  in- 
stances of  long  standing  and  require  constant 
attention.  New  cases  are  arriving  steadily  and 
we  will  be  overrun  in  a  very  short  time.  Sur- 
geons are  scarce  here,  and  as  we  have  about 
50,000  wounded  scattered  about  the  country, 
you  can  readily  see  what  the  conditions  are. 

Belgrade  contained  about  120,000  inhabi- 
tants. In  the  early  months  of  the  war  the  city* 
which  lies  on  the  south  bank  of  the  Danube, 
changed  hands  several  times  before  the  Ser~ 
vians  evacuated  it  finally,  being  subjected  to 


DR.  RYAN  UNDER  FIRE  AT  BELGRADE     97 

three  bombardments.  The  military  hospital,  of 
which  Dr.  Ryan  took  charge  on  his  arrival,  was 
on  a  high  hill  overlooking  the  city  and  was 
frequently  under  fire. 

The  following  weeks  were  full  of  exciting  ex- 
periences for  the  American  surgeons  and  their 
nurses.  In  a  letter  written  from  Nish,  under 
date  of  December  26,  and  published  in  the 
Red  Cross  Magazine,  Dr.  Ryan  described  what 
had  occurred.  Since  November  25,  he  said,  he 
had  had  under  his  care  in  Belgrade  five  hospi- 
tals with  about  forty  buildings,  being  assisted 
by  about  nine  Servian  doctors  and  one  hundred 
and  fifty  nurses,  and  having  about  one  thou- 
sand two  hundred  patients.  He  was  also  in 
charge  of  the  insane  hospital  and  the  civil,  sur- 
gical, and  medical  hospitals  in  the  city.  He 
continued: 

When  the  Servians  evacuated  Belgrade  they 
turned  everything  over  to  me.  When  you 
think  that  they  came  to  me  at  2  o'clock  in  the 
morning  and  said  they  were  all  going  away  and 
I  was  supposed  to  remain  and  take  charge  of 
all  the  hospitals,  you  can  imagine  my  feelings. 
I  did  the  best  I  could  for  and  with  them.  When 
the  Austrians  came  in,  the  non-combatant  Ser- 


98     THE  AMERICAN  RED  CROSS  IN  SERVIA 

vians  all  came  to  me  for  food.  I  had  to  get 
bread  for  about  6,000  poor  people  every  day, 
some  of  which  I  bought,  but  the  greater  part  of 
which  was  given  to  me  by  the  Austrians. 

When  the  Servian  troops  left  they  took  with 
them  about  200  of  our  patientsf  leaving  100 
behind.  Five  days  after  the  Austrians  arrived 
I  had  3,000  patients,  all  very  seriously  wounded 
and  many  with  frozen  hands  and  feet  that  neces- 
sitated amputation.  Many  of  them  had  been 
on  the  road  six  or  seven  days  before  we  got 
them,  and  many  did  not  even  have  the  first 
dressing. 

Before  the  Servians  retook  Belgrade  6,000 
wounded  passed  through  my  hands-  As  it  was 
impossible  to  handle  them,  I  told  the  Austrians 
they  would  have  to  send  them  into  the  interior 
of  Hungary,  which  they  did.  When  they  left 
they  took  with  them  all  of  their  wounded  with 
the  exception  of  514  which  I  still  have. 

In  addition  to  these  men,  Dr.  Ryan  had  in 
his  care  when  he  wrote  about  250  Servian 
wounded.  "The  Servians,"  he  added,  "are 
very  grateful,  and  when  you  remember  that 
they  have  about  60,000  wounded  of  their  own, 
every  little  helps." 


XI 
FIGHTING  TYPHUS   AT   GEVGELIA 

IN  view  of  the  conditions  in  Servia  two  more 
units  of  the  American  Red  Cross  were  des- 
patched the  middle  of  November  to  the  as- 
sistance of  Dr.  Ryan.  They  were  under  the 
charge  of  Dr.  Ethan  Flagg  Butler  and  of 
Dr.  Ernest  P.  Magruder,  both  of  Washington, 
D.  C.,  Dr.  Butler  having  general  control  of  the 
force.  Assisting  them  were  Drs.  James  F. 
Donnelly,  of  Brooklyn,  Clapham  P.  King,  of 
Annapolis,  and  Morton  P.  Lane,  of  New  Or- 
leans, with  twelve  trained  nurses.  As  the 
Servian  Government  had  established  itself  at 
Nish,  it  was  decided  that  these  two  new  sur- 
gical units  should  make  their  headquarters  at 
Gevgelia,  a  town  of  about  7,000  inhabitants  on 
the  railway  running  south  from  Nish  to  Saloniki 
on  the  Greek  coast. 

Dr.  Butler  and  his  staff  reached  Gevgelia  in 
December,  and  found  themselves  face  to  face 

99 


100     THE  AMERICAN  RED  CROSS  IN  SERVIA 

with  a  difficult  situation.  The  following  ex- 
tract from  a  private  letter  from  Dr.  Butler, 
dated  Christmas  day,  which  was  published  in 
the  Princeton  Alumni  Weekly — Dr.  Butler  was 
graduated  at  Princeton  in  1906 — defined  the 
situation: 

Now  we  have  on  our  hands  some  thousand 
or  so  wounded,  both  Servian  and  Austrian,  in 
a  large  tobacco  factory.  There  is  no  need  to 
say  more  than  that  Sherman  must  just  have 
come  from  a  military  hospital  when  he  uttered 
his  trite  description  of  war.  We  are,  however, 
taking  over  an  old  storage  house  wherein 
there  have  been  no  patients  and  which,  there- 
fore, conies  into  our  hands  sweet  and  clean. 
In  this  we  hope  to  establish  a  couple  of  oper- 
ating rooms,  and  ward  space  for  175  patients, 
choosing  for  this  building  the  more  severely 
wounded. 

The  greatest  need  that  confronted  Dr.  Butler 
was  for  an  abundant  supply  of  pure  water. 
Even  the  surgeons  and  nurses  were  under  the 
necessity  of  making  "an  occasional  run  for  a 
hot  bath  and  a  glass  of  water"  to  Saloniki,  a 
morning's  ride  on  the  railway-train.  At  this 
time  no  infectious  or  contagious  disease  had 
made  its  appearance,  but  Dr.  Butler  saw 


FIGHTING  TYPHUS  AT  GEVGELIA       101 

clearly  that  the  conditions  were  such  as  to 
breed  a  veritable  pestilence.  In  a  second  let- 
ter he  wrote: 

Yet  we  are  going  to  stick  to  the  game  and 
beat  them  in  spite  of  themselves.  We  will  just 
hammer,  hammer  at  the  local  authorities  and 
at  the  Government  in  Nish,  until  they  let  us 
make  a  clean  place  of  this  and  keep  it  clean. 

Not  many  weeks  passed  after  this  before  the 
situation  became  desperate,  owing  to  the  out- 
break and  rapid  spread  of  the  dreaded  typhus 
and  typhoid  fevers  in  and  around  Gevgelia, 
where  the  sanitary  conditions  were  about  as 
bad  as  they  could  be.  The  pestilence  attacked 
the  members  of  the  two  American  units.  Dr. 
Butler  himself  was  the  only  one  of  the  Ameri- 
can surgeons  who  escaped  an  attack,  more  or 
less  severe,  of  typhus,  and  at  one  time  no  fewer 
than  nine  of  his  twelve  nurses  were  typhus  pa- 
tients at  Gevgelia.  Although  he  was  author- 
ized by  cable  to  transfer  his  entire  staff  to 
Saloniki,  Dr.  Butler  stuck  resolutely  and  cou- 
rageously to  his  post  in  Gevgelia,  and,  with  four 
of  his  party  in  the  delirium  that  accompanies 
typhus,  could  write  in  this  admirably  restrained 


102     THE  AMERICAN  RED  CROSS  IN  SERVIA 

temper  to  the  home  office  of  the  American  Red 
Cross : 

In  regard  to  the  present  personnel  of  the 
units,  I  do  not  advise  withdrawal  or  even 
change  of  location  within  Servia,  but  I  feel  that 
before  other  members  are  sent  to  this  country 
your  office  should  weigh  seriously  the  risks  that 
everyone  will  have  to  run — risks  from  disease 
that  are  considered  rightfully  preventable  in 
our  home  country — and  decide  whether  or  not 
the  units  are  to  be  kept  up  to  their  full  quota 
or  allowed  to  gradually  decrease  in  number  as 
one  after  another  the  original  members  become 
sick  and  are  invalided  home.  I  am  sure,  from 
the  events  of  the  past  two  weeks,  that  it  is 
only  a  question  of  time  before  each  member 
contracts  some  sickness  of  sufficient  gravity  to 
make  his  or  her  return  to  America  necessary. 

Two  of  the  American  surgeons  succumbed  to 
the  disease.  Dr.  Donnelly  died  on  February 
22,  and  Dr.  Magruder,  who  had  been  trans- 
ferred to  Belgrade  to  assist  Dr.  Ryan,  died 
early  in  April.  It  was  the  privilege  of  Sir 
Thomas  Lipton,  who  saw  Dr.  Donnelly  when 
he  was  ill,  to  carry  out  his  last  wishes.  One  of 
these  was  that  if  he  did  not  pull  through  he 
should  be  buried  with  the  American  and  Red 


FIGHTING  TYPHUS  AT  GEVGELIA       103 

Cross  flags  wrapped  around  his  body.  A  recent 
financial  report  of  the  American  Red  Cross 
records  a  substantial  sum  as  set  aside  for  pen- 
sions to  the  widows  of  these  two  surgeons  who 
gave  their  lives  to  the  cause  of  humanity. 

Meanwhile  help  was  being  sent  to  Dr.  Butler 
by  the  American  Red  Cross.  In  response  to  a 
call  for  volunteers  Dr.  Reynold  M.  Kirby- 
Smith,  of  Sewanee,  Tennessee,  and  three  nurses 
left  their  station  at  Pau,  France,  and  hastened 
to  Gevgelia.  In  February  Dr.  Earl  B.  Downer, 
of  Lansing,  Michigan,  left  the  United  States, 
also  under  Red  Cross  auspices,  to  go  to  the  aid 
of  Dr.  Butler,  and  in  March  more  trained 
nurses  were  despatched  on  the  same  mission. 
Typhus,  however,  had  become  too  virulent  and 
too  wide-spread  to  be  combated  successfully  by 
so  small  a  force,  and  steps  were  at  once  taken  to 
organize  and  to  send  to  Servia  a  sanitary  com- 
mission for  the  express  purpose  of  stamping  out 
the  plague  from  which  thousands  had  already 
died. 

Dr.  Kirby-Smith,  Dr.  Butler,  and  Dr.  Downer, 
leaving  Gevgelia  to  be  taken  care  of  by  the 
Sanitary  Commission,  went  to  Belgrade  to  the 


104     THE  AMERICAN  RED  CROSS  IN  SERVIA 

assistance  of  Dr.  Ryan,  who  meanwhile  had 
fallen  ill  with  typhus.  Summarizing  later  the 
work  of  the  American  Red  Cross  in  Belgrade, 
Dr.  Downer  stated  that  in  little  over  a  year 
20,000  sick  and  wounded,  including  all  nation- 
alities, had  been  cared  for.  "During  the  recent 
German  invasion,"  he  said,  "we  cared  for  4,000 
wounded  in  a  period  of  thirty  days."  Describ- 
ing the  daily  routine  of  himself  and  Dr.  Butler, 
he  said: 

In  the  month  of  April  Dr.  Ethan  F.  Butler 
and  myself  did  all  the  surgical  and  medical 
work  of  the  hospital.  We  operated  each  day 
from  8  A.  M.  to  2  p.  M.,  and  after  that  visited 
800  patients.  This  was  our  daily  routine. 
Each  day  we  made  a  rigid  search  of  the  wards 
for  new  typhus  cases,  which  were  promptly  sent 
to  the  isolation  hospital.  At  this  time  most  of 
our  nurses  and  doctors,  including  the  director, 
Dr.  Ryan,  were  ill  from  typhus.  Dr.  Reynold 
M.  Kirby-Smith,  who  was  in  charge  at  this 
time,  took  care  of  the  executive  work  of  the 
hospital. 

/ 

With  the  Servians  Dr.  Ryan  had  become  a 
popular  hero.  To  him  they  gave  the  credit 
for  saving  the  city  of  Belgrade  from  being  pil- 
laged and  burned  by  the  Austrian  troops.  The 


FIGHTING  TYPHUS  AT  GEVGELIA      105 

London  Times  confirmed  this  view,  saying  that 
it  was  due  to  his  "fearless,  determined  interven- 
tion that  the  city  was  not  destroyed  and  that 
an  even  greater  number  of  women  and  children 
were  not  carried  off  into  captivity."  He  kept 
on  good  terms,  moreover,  with  the  invaders, 
who  sent  him  no  fewer  than  3,000  wounded 
soldiers  in  one  day  for  treatment ! 


XII 

CONQUERING  THE  PLAGUE  OF  TYPHUS 


npHE  story  of  how  the  plague  of  typhus  in 
-*•  Servia  was  conquered  by  American  scientific 
knowledge,  organization,  and  energy,  the  cost 
of  practically  the  whole  undertaking  being  met 
by  American  money,  forms  one  of  the  most 
dramatic  chapters  in  the  history  of  modern 
sanitary  science.  The  disease  became  epidemic 
in  January,  1915,  in  the  northwestern  part  of 
Servia  among  the  Austrian  prisoners  of  war, 
who  were  greatly  crowded  together  and  who 
were  compelled  to  live  under  the  most  insani- 
tary conditions.  As  these  prisoners  were  sent 
and  as  infected  native  Servians  travelled  to  other 
parts  of  the  country,  the  disease  spread  rapidly, 
reaching  its  height  in  April,  when  no  fewer  than 
nine  thousand  new  cases  a  day  were  reported. 

In  this  emergency  the  American  Red  Cross 
organized  a  sanitary  commission,  for  the  leader- 
ship of  which  Dr.  Richard  P.  Strong,  professor 
of  tropical  diseases  in  the  Medical  School  of 

106 


CONQUERING  THE  PLAGUE  OF  TYPHUS      107 

Harvard  University,  was  selected.  Dr.  Strong, 
who  was  a  graduate  of  Yale  of  the  class  of  1893, 
had  proved,  in  the  Philippines  and  in  Man- 
churia, his  capacity  for  just  this  sort  of  work. 
The  commission  was  financed  by  contributions 
from  the  Rockefeller  Foundation,  the  American 
Red  Cross,  and  private  sources,  chiefly  at  Har- 
vard and  at  Yale.  The  membership  consisted 
of  twelve  physicians  and  sanitary  experts,  who 
sailed  for  Naples  early  in  April,  Dr.  Strong  hav- 
ing preceded  them  by  several  weeks. 

All  sorts  of  supplies  were  taken,  one  item  in 
the  list  being  fifty-four  tons  of  sulphur  for  dis- 
infecting purposes.  Later,  in  May,  in  response 
to  appeals  from  Dr.  Strong  for  more  assistance, 
a  supplementary  force  of  twenty-five  sanitary 
experts  under  Dr.  Edward  Stuart,  of  Oklahoma, 
was  despatched  to  Servia,  and  by  July  the  total 
American  membership  of  the  commission  had 
been  increased  to  forty-three.  A  great  mass 
of  additional  supplies  was  also  forwarded,  in- 
cluding 125  tons  of  sulphur  and  fifteen  tons  of 
artesian-well  apparatus. 

England,  France,  and  Russia  were  as  keenly 
alive  as  was  America  to  the  danger  to  all  Europe 


108     THE  AMERICAN  RED   CROSS  IN  SERVIA 

which  lay  in  the  dreaded  typhus  epidemic  and 
had  sent  sanitary  experts  and  physicians  to 
Servia.  Reaching  Nish,  Dr.  Strong,  with  the 
co-operation  of  the  medical  men  from  these 
countries  and  of  such  Servian  doctors — more 
than  a  hundred  native  physicians  succumbed 
to  the  disease  before  it  was  conquered — as 
could  be  spared  for  the  work,  organized  an 
International  Health  Board,  of  which  he  be- 
came the  medical  director.  With  full  authority 
from  the  Servian  Government  to  take  any 
measures  necessary  to  stamp  out  the  plague, 
Dr.  Strong  divided  the  country  for  sanitary 
purposes  into  fourteen  districts.  The  French, 
English,  and  Russian  physicians  took  charge  of 
seven  of  these  districts;  the  Americans  the  re- 
mainder. 

The  methods  that  modern  sanitary  science 
employs  when  it  becomes  necessary  to  save 
not  a  community  but  a  whole  people  from  the 
ravages  of  a  pestilence,  are  well  illustrated  by 
Dr.  Strong's  report  to  the  American  Red  Cross: 

As  typhus  is  conveyed  from  man  to  man  by 
vermin  (the  bite  of  the  body  louse)  the  bathing 
and  disinfection  of  very  large  numbers  of 


Copyright  liy  Cm/rriroorf  <t  L'mlerwood. 

Doctor  Richard  P.  Strong. 


CONQUERING  THE  PLAGUE  OF  TYPHUS      109 

people  and  immediate  disinfection  of  their 
clothing  in  a  short  period  of  time  was  an  im- 
portant problem  in  combating  the  disease.  For 
this  purpose  sanitary  trains  consisting  each  of 
three  converted  railroad  cars  were  fitted  up. 
One  car  contained  a  huge  boiler  which  supplied 
the  steam  for  disinfection  of  the  clothing.  In 
a  second  car  fifteen  shower  baths  were  con- 
structed. A  third  car  was  converted  into  a 
huge  autoclave  (disinfector),  into  which  steam 
could  be  turned  under  automatic  pressure.  In 
this  manner  the  vermin  were  immediately  de- 
stroyed and  the  clothes  thoroughly  disinfected. 

Large  tents  were  erected  beside  the  railroad 
sidings  on  which  the  cars  were  placed.  The 
people  were  marched  by  the  thousands  to  these 
tents,  their  hair  was  clipped,  and  a  limited 
number  undressed  themselves,  carried  their 
clothes  to  the  disinfecting  car,  and  then  passed 
to  the  car  containing  the  shower  baths.  After 
a  thorough  scrubbing  with  soap  and  water  they 
were  sprayed  with  petroleum  as  an  extra  pre- 
caution for  destroying  the  vermin.  They  then 
received  their  disinfected  clothing.  In  many 
instances  in  which  the  clothing  was  very  badly 
soiled  fresh  clothing  was  supplied.  Many  of 
these  people  stated  that  they  had  not  bathed 
for  ten  months  or  longer.  Their  faces  in  some 
instances  betrayed  surprise  and  in  others  fear 
when  the  water  touched  their  bodies. 

In  the  larger  cities  and  in  those  situated 
away  from  the  railway,  disinfecting  and  bath- 
ing plants  were  established  and  separate  hours 


110     THE  AMERICAN  RED  CROSS  IN  SERVIA 

were  arranged  for  bathing  women  and  men  in 
large  numbers. 

In  many  towns  the  clothes  were  disinfected 
by  baking  them  in  ovens,  either  specially  con- 
structed for  this  purpose  or  those  which  had 
been  built  previously  for  the  baking  of  bricks 
or  for  other  purposes.  As  all  the  hospitals 
were  infected,  it  was  necessary  to  systematically 
disinfect  these  and  the  inmates. 

As  cholera  threatened  to  develop,  vaccination 
against  cholera  and  typhoid  fever  was  made 
compulsory  in  Servia,  and  vaccination  trains 
and  parties  travelled  all  over  the  country  for 
this  purpose.  Dr.  Strong's  activity  during  this 
campaign  was  prodigious.  Here  is  a  letter  in 
which  he  describes  his  experiences  one  night 
late  in  May,  while  returning,  with  several  com- 
panions and  a  guard,  from  a  visit  by  horseback 
and  carriage  to  a  hospital  in  Pech,  in  Monte- 
negro, the  carriages  having  been  sent  on  ahead 
of  the  party: 

I  forgot  to  mention  that  I  had  an  escort  of 
six  gendarmes  with  me  because  we  were  passing 
through  a  territory  which  is  on  the  Albanian 
border,  and  the  Albanians  are  very  unfriendly 
to  the  Montenegrins.  The  gendarme  in  com- 
mand begged  me  not  to  camp  in  the  open,  say- 


CONQUERING  THE  PLAGUE  OF  TYPHUS      111 

ing  it  was  very  dangerous  to  do  so.  However, 
as  I  had  not  slept  for  twenty-eight  hours,  I  did 
not  feel  like  going  on  at  that  hour  of  the  night 
and  spending  it  at  an  infected  hotel.  We  there- 
fore insisted  on  remaining  that  night  in  the 
open.  A  camp-fire  was  started  and  Mr.  Brink 
made  some  coffee  and  fried  some  bacon.  This 
we  ate,  together  with  a  tin  of  salmon  and  some 
biscuits. 

Our  meal  had  hardly  been  finished  before  a 
curious  incident  happened.  A  man,  screaming 
with  all  his  lung-power,  came  running  into  our 
vicinity,  chased  by  an  Albanian  with  a  rifle  in 
his  hands.  This  man  claimed,  as  we  found  out 
later,  that  the  Albanian  was  trying  to  kill  him. 
It  seems  the  Albanian  had  seen  our  camp  fire 
and  had  crossed  the  border  to  find  out  what 
it  meant.  We  gave  him  something  to  eat  and 
he  at  once  became  very  friendly.  By  signs  he 
intimated  to  us  we  should  put  the  camp  fire 
out  and  lie  down  and  go  to  sleep.  In  fact  he 
several  times  tried  to  put  the  fire  out  himself, 
and  kept  pointing  to  the  Albanian  frontier, 
every  once  in  a  while  raising  his  rifle  as  if  about 
to  fire,  indicating,  we  presumed,  that  we  were 
in  danger. 

As  the  rain  was  now  pouring  down  we  de- 
cided to  go  to  bed.  We  had  no  tents  with  us, 
but  had  the  canvas  covers  for  our  hammocks. 
We  spread  our  bedding  on  the  ground  and  then 
climbed  under  the  canvas.  The  rain  fell  heavily 
all  night  long.  I  was  wet  through,  and  found 
next  morning  that  my  pocketbook  had  been  so 


112     THE  AMERICAN  RED  CROSS  IN  SERVIA 

badly  soaked  that  my  passport  which  it  con- 
tained was  damaged  and  that  the  pigment  on 
the  red  seal  had  smeared  on  the  paper.  We 
heard  some  shooting  in  the  night,  but  no  shots 
were  exchanged.  A  little  before  4  A.  M.  we 
crawled  out  of  our  beds.  It  was  still  raining. 
We  rolled  up  the  water-soaked  bedding  and  left 
it  there  on  the  plain  to  be  sent  for  and  started 
on  our  walk  to  the  town  of  Djakovitza,  wThich 
we  reached  about  5.45  o'clock.  The  command- 
ing officer  in  the  town  was  scandalized  to  hear 
that  we  had  camped  in  the  open  on  the  Alba- 
nian border.  He  said  it  not  only  was  very  un- 
safe but  that  no  one  had  done  such  a  thing  for 
many  years;  that  our  experience  would  go  down 
in  history.  We,  however,  preferred  to  take  the 
risk  of  being  shot  to  sleeping  in  a  typhus- 
infected  hotel. 

The  battle  lasted  fully  six  months  before  the 
scourge  was  finally  conquered.  Dr.  Strong's 
estimate  was  that  from  135,000  to  150,000  per- 
sons died  in  Servia  from  the  disease.  In  the 
end  science  won.  On  his  return  to  the  United 
States  in  the  autumn  Dr.  Strong  announced 
that  in  the  last  three  weeks  of  his  stay  in  Ser- 
via not  a  single  new  case  of  typhus  had  been 
reported. 


PART  IV 
AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 


XIII 

RICHARD   NORTON'S   MOTOR-AMBULANCE 
CORPS 


foremost  figure  among  the  scores  of 
-^-  American  university  men  who,  in  1914, 
1915,  and  1916,  gave  their  services  to  the  am- 
bulance corps  in  France,  Belgium,  and  the 
Near  East,  was  Richard  Norton.  Graduated 
at  Harvard  in  1892,  the  son  of  Professor  Charles 
Eliot  Norton,  he  had  become  an  archaeologist 
of  note,  and  for  eight  years  was  director  of  the 
American  School  of  Classical  Studies  at  Rome. 
The  Great  War  summoned  him  from  these  scho- 
lastic pursuits  into  active  field-work  in  behalf 
of  humanity;  and  his  response  to  this  summons 
was  immediate.  Soon  after  the  war  began  he 
went  to  London  and  organized  the  American 
Volunteer  Motor-Ambulance  Corps.  By  Octo- 
ber, 1914,  ten  of  his  ambulances  were  at  work, 
at  first  under  the  auspices  of  the  British  Red 
Cross  and  the  St.  John  Ambulance,  the  drivers 
being  recent  graduates  of  American  colleges. 

115 


116    AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

From  this  modest  beginning  the  number  of 
the  ambulances  over  which  Mr.  Norton  exer- 
cised supervision  was  gradually  increased  as 
more  funds  were  forthcoming.  Finally  it  was 
found  to  be  desirable  to  associate  the  corps 
with  the  American  Red  Cross  and  to  place  its 
cars  under  the  direct  control  of  the  French 
Army. 

To  the  young  Americans  who  drove  these 
ambulances  Mr.  Norton,  being  their  senior  by 
many  years,  was  more  like  an  elder  brother 
than  a  commanding  officer.  In  his  relations 
with  them  his  principal  task  was  of  a  double 
character — to  teach  them  to  keep  out  of  un- 
necessary danger  and  at  the  same  time  to  in- 
spire them,  by  example  as  well  as  by  precept, 
with  a  high  courage  to  run  any  risk  in  the  per- 
formance of  a  real  duty.  That  he  succeeded  in 
this  by  no  means  easy  task  is  evident  from  the 
feeling  of  loyalty,  devotion,  and  admiration 
which  all  the  young  men  who  served  under  him 
brought  back  to  America. 

An  anecdote  is  told  of  him  which  illustrates 
admirably  the  manner  in  which  he  controlled 
and  tempered  the  overeager  spirits  of  the 


RICHARD   NORTON'S  MOTOR  CORPS     117 

youths  under  him.  One  evening,  so  the  story 
goes,  Norton  found  one  of  his  young  ambulance 
drivers  a  considerable  distance  from  the  head- 
quarters of  the  section  absorbed  hi  watching  a 
French  battery  near  by  in  action.  Taken  to 
task  by  his  chief,  the  boy  admitted  frankly  that 
he  had  been  drawn  thither  by  a  great  curiosity 
to  see  the  big  guns  in  action. 

"Yes,"  commented  Norton,  in  effect,  "that 
was  natural.  I've  had  that  feeling  myself. 
But  consider,  for  a  moment,  the  possible  conse- 
quences. Sooner  or  later  the  Germans  will  find 
this  battery,  and  a  shell  may  blow  you  to 
pieces,  or  a  fragment  destroy  your  eyesight  or 
cause  the  loss  of  an  arm  or  a  leg.  And  if  that 
happens  the  French  officials  will  merely  shrug 
their  shoulders  and  say,  *  Another  one  of  those 
reckless  Americans  throwing  away  his  life  for 
nothing' ;  and  that  will  be  the  end  of  you. 

"On  the  other  hand,  if  you  are  wounded 
while  in  the  performance  of  duty  you  will  be 
cited  for  bravery  and  may  receive  the  Croix  de 
Guerre;  and  if  you  are  killed,  the  French  will 
pay  you  every  honor  at  their  command.  Which 
seems  to  be  the  sensible  choice  to  make?" 


118    AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

Put  in  this  dramatic  way,  the  lesson  of  avoid* 
ing  unnecessary  risk  was  quickly  learned. 

From  the  several  letters  from  Mr.  Norton  to 
his  brother  Eliot  in  New  York,  which  are 
printed  in  Mr.  M.  A.  De  Wolfe  Howe's  volume, 
"Harvard  Volunteers  in  Europe,"  it  is  possible 
to  construct  a  reasonably  complete  picture  of 
the  important  work  which  Norton  was  able  to 
do  in  the  early  years  of  the  war. 

Writing  from  La  Croix,  Champagne,  under 
date  of  October  14,  1915,  Norton  summarized 
the  work  which  his  corps  of  ambulances  had 
done  during  the  year: 

As  it  is  just  a  year  since  the  Corps  came 
into  being,  it  is  worth  remembering  what  we 
started  from  and  what  we  have  developed  into. 
Notwithstanding  errors  of  judgment  or  acci- 
dents, we  have  accomplished  good  work.  A 
year  ago  we  started  from  London  with  our  cars, 
and  not  much  more  than  hope  for  a  bank  bal- 
ance. We  were  wanderers  searching  for  work. 
During  this  year  we  have  grown  into  a  corps 
consisting  now  of  some  sixty  cars,  to  which  the 
St.  John  Ambulance  and  Red  Cross  Societies 
render  any  assistance  we  ask,  and  instead  of 
wondering  where  we  were  to  find  occupation 
the  French  authorities  have  intrusted  us  with  the 
wJwle  ambulance  service  of  the  llth  Army  corps. 


RICHARD   NORTON'S  MOTOR  CORPS     119 

.  .  .  We  have  carried  during  the  year  just 
under  twenty-eight  thousand  cases,  and  during 
the  days  from  the  25th  of  September  to  the 
9th  of  October,  our  cars  relieved  the  sufferings 
of  over  six  thousand  individuals.  .  .  . 

The  period  referred  to  in  the  last  sentence 
was  that  of  the  great  French  drive  in  Cham- 
pagne, in  which,  as  we  have  seen,  young  Farns- 
worth,  of  the  Foreign  Legion,  was  killed.  Se- 
lections from  Norton's  description  in  the  same 
letter  of  the  work  of  his  ambulance  corps  dur- 
ing this  battle  follow: 

For  three  days  before  the  25th  of  Septem- 
ber, an  incessant  cannonade,  continued  by  night 
and  day,  showed  that  the  region  round  Tahure 
was  the  one  selected  for  attacking  the  Germans. 
It  was  on  the  twenty-fourth  that  we  received 
final  orders  to  move  up  to  the  lines,  and  to 
station  our  cars  at  the  field  hospitals  and  the 
trenches.  .  .  . 

Before  we  actually  took  up  our  positions  I 
I  had  been  over  the  ground  to  get  the  lay  of  the 
land,  to  see  where  the  various  trails — they  were 
scarcely  more — led  to,  in  order  to  know  how 
best  to  direct  the  ambulances  on  their  various 
errands.  The  country  was  absolutely  packed; 
I  can  scarcely  find  any  word  to  suggest  a  pic- 
ture of  how  packed  it  was  with  troops  and 
munition  trains.  There  was  every  sort  and 


120    AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

description.  On  the  rolling  land,  over  which 
the  trenches,  cut  in  through  chalk  soil,  ran  like 
great  white  snakes,  the  batteries  of  every  sized 
gun  were  innumerable.  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
many  guns  there  were,  but,  in  a  radius  of  half 
a  mile  from  where  my  ambulances  stood  the 
first  night,  there  were  at  least  a  dozen  batteries 
of  various  calibers,  and  they  were  no  thicker 
there  than  anywhere  else.  We  tried  to  sleep 
on  the  stretchers  for  an  hour  or  two  before 
dawn  of  the  twenty-fifth,  but  when  you  have 
a  battery  of  "150's"  coughing  uninterruptedly 
within  less  than  one  hundred  yards  of  where 
you  are  resting,  to  say  nothing  of  other  guns  to 
right  and  to  left  of  you,  one's  repose  is  decidedly 
syncopated.  On  the  morning  of  the  twenty- 
fifth  the  cannonade  slackened,  and  we  knew 
afterward  that  the  three  previous  days'  work 
had  battered  the  German  lines  into  a  shapeless 
mass,  and  that  the  French  infantry  had  made 
good  the  chance  they  had  been  patiently  wait- 
ing for  all  summer  of  proving  to  the  world 
their  ability  to  beat  the  Germans.  .  .  . 

It  is  curious  that  only  three  or  four  inci- 
dents of  the  twelve  hard  days'  work  stand  out 
clearly  in  my  mind.  The  rest  is  but  a  hazy 
memory  of  indistinguishable  nights  and  days, 
cold  and  rain,  long  rows  of  laden  stretchers 
waiting  to  be  put  into  the  cars,  wavering  lines 
of  less  seriously  wounded  hobbling  along  to 
where  we  were  waiting,  sleepy  hospital  order- 
lies, dark  underground  chambers  in  which  the 
doctors  were  sorting  out  and  caring  for  the 


RICHARD   NORTON'S  MOTOR  CORPS     121 

wounded,  and  an  unceasing  noise  of  rumbling 
wagons,  whirring  aeroplanes,  distant  guns  cough- 
ing and  nearby  ones  crashing,  shells  bursting 
and  bullets  hissing.  Out  of  this  general  jum- 
ble of  memory  one  feature  shines  out  steadily 
clear;  it  is  of  the  doctors.  Patient,  indefatiga- 
ble, tender,  encouraging  and  brave  in  the  most 
perfect  way,  they  were  everywhere  in  the  fore- 
front and  seemingly  knew  not  what  fatigue 
meant.  .  .  . 

After  describing  a  few  of  the  incidents  that 
impressed  themselves  upon  his  memory,  Mr. 
Norton  continued: 

Still  another  picture  that  rises  in  my  mind, 
as  I  write,  is  of  one  cloudy  morning,  when,  after 
a  very  tiring  night,  I  was  sitting  on  the  road- 
side watching  a  rather  heavy  bombardment 
near  by,  and  suddenly  through  the  din  rose  the 
sweet  clear  notes  of  a  shepherd's  pipe.  It  was 
the  same  reed-pipe  I  have  heard  so  often  on 
the  hills  of  Greece  and  Asia  Minor,  and  the 
same  sweetly-sad,  age-old  shepherd  music  tell- 
ing of  Pan  and  the  Nymphs,  and  the  asphodel 
meadows  where  Youth  lies  buried.  The  piper 
was  an  ordinary  piou-piou,  a  simple  fantasin, 
mon  vieux  Charles,  with  knapsack  on  back,  rifle 
slung  over  his  shoulder  and  helmet  on  head 
strolling  down  to  the  valley  of  death  a  few  hun- 
dred yards  beyond.  Nor  is  this  the  only  music 
I  have  heard.  One  night  a  violin  sounded 


122    AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

among  the  pines  which  shelter  our  tents,  and  I 
strolled  over  to  find  a  blue-clad  Orpheus  easing 
the  pain  of  the  wounded  and  numbing  the 
fatigue  of  the  brancardiers  with  bits  of  Chopin 
and  Schubert  and  Beethoven. 

Such  are  some  of  the  impressions  of  the 
battle  seen  from  this  side  of  the  line.  Others  I 
have  formed  since  the  main  fight  ceased,  in  the 
lines  previously  held  by  the  Germans.  I  went 
over  some  of  their  trenches  the  other  day  and 
have  never  seen  anything  so  horrible.  Al- 
though, as  prisoners  have  told  us,  they  knew 
they  were  to  be  attacked,  they  had  no  idea  that 
the  attack  would  be  anything  like  so  severe  as 
it  was.  Those  I  have  talked  to  said  it  was 
awful,  and  that  they  were  glad  to  be  out  of  it. 
Their  trenches  were  very  elaborately  con- 
structed, many  of  the  dugouts  being  fitted  up 
with  considerable  furniture,  the  dwellers  evi- 
dently having  no  notion  they  would  be  hur- 
riedly evicted.  After  the  bombardment  there 
was  nothing  left  of  all  this  careful  work.  The 
whole  earth  was  torn  to  pieces.  It  looked  as 
though  some  drunken  giant  had  driven  his 
giant  plough  over  the  land.  In  the  midst  of  an 
utterly  indescribable  medley  of  torn  wire,  bro- 
ken wagons,  and  upheaved  timbers,  yawned 
here  and  there  chasms  like  the  craters  of  small 
volcanoes,  where  mines  had  been  exploded.  It 
was  an  ashen  gray  world,  distorted  with  the 
spasms  of  death — like  a  scene  in  the  moon. 
Except  for  the  broken  guns,  the  scattered 
clothing,  the  hasty  graves,  the  dead  horses  and 


RICHARD   NORTON'S  MOTOR  CORPS     123 

other  signs  of  human  passage,  no  one  could 
have  believed  that  such  a  place  had  ever  been 
anything  but  dead  and  desolate.  The  rubbish 
still  remained  when  I  was  there,  but  masses  of 
material  had  been  already  gathered  up  and 
saved. 

Mr.  Norton  gave  the  text  of  the  notice  issued 
to  the  army  on  October  1,  describing  the  vast 
quantities  of  material  captured  in  this  battle, 
and  added  this  evidence  that  six  years  before 
the  present  war  began  the  Germans  had  decided 
to  use  gas  in  warfare: 

In  this  notice  no  mention  is  made  of  some 
very  interesting  gas  machines  that  were  taken. 
They  were  of  two  sorts,  one  for  the  production 
of  gas,  the  other  to  counteract  its  effects.  The 
latter  were  rather  elaborate  and  heavy  but  very 
effective  instruments  consisting  of  two  main 
parts;  one  to  slip  over  the  head,  protecting  the 
eyes  and  clipping  the  nose,  the  other  an  arrange- 
ment of  bags  and  bottles  containing  oxygen, 
which  the  wearer  inhaled  through  a  tube  held 
in  the  mouth.  There  were  several  forms  of 
these  apparatuses,  but  the  most  interesting 
point  to  note  about  them  is  that  one  had 
stamped  upon  it  the  words:  "Type  of  1914 — 
developed  from  type  of  1912,  developed  from 
type  of  1908,"  thus  showing  that  seven  years 
ago  the  Germans  had  decided  to  fight  with  gas. 


124    AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

Eight  months  later  Norton  and  his  corps 
were  at  Verdun,  the  scene  of  the  great  but  un- 
successful offensive  of  the  army  of  the  Crown 
Prince  of  Germany  in  the  spring  of  that  year, 
1916.  Another  letter  from  him  to  his  brother 
Eliot,  reprinted  in  "Harvard  Volunteers  in 
Europe"  from  the  Springfield  Republican  of 
July  8,  1916,  shows  the  perils  of  the  work  in 
which  he  and  his  men  were  then  engaged,  and 
the  spirit  in  which  they  faced  these  perils.  The 
letter  was  dated  Verdun,  June  15,  1916: 

It  is  some  time  since  I  wrote,  but  we  first 
were  moving  up  here,  and  since  arriving  have 
had  strenuous  times.  We  are  camped  some 
five  miles  outside  Verdun,  where  we  have  our 
permanent  post;  another  is  at  a  hospital  be- 
tween us  and  Verdun;  while  every  night,  as 
soon  as  it  is  dark,  we  send  out  eight  cars  to 
evacuate  the  advanced  posts.  This  is  extremely 
risky  work  and  can  only  be  done  at  night, 
owing  to  the  road  being  in  view  of  the  Germans, 
who  are  not  a  kilometre  distant.  At  night  I 
have  my  office,  as  it  were,  at  Verdun,  where 
L'hoste  has  his  main  post.  Thence,  as  there  is 
need,  he  and  I  go  up  and  down  the  line  of  posts 
to  keep  the  work  moving. 

The  advanced  posts  can  be  reached  only  at 
night,  so,  as  there  are  only  four  hours  of  dark- 


RICFAUD   NORTON'S  MOTOR  CORPS     125 

ness,  we  are  extremely  busy.  Two  days  ago 
we  were  ordered  to  evacuate  one  of  these  posts 
by  day — a  thing  heretofore  unheard  of.  Of 
course,  I  obeyed  and  sent  the  five  cars  de- 
manded, following  them  up  a  short  time  after- 
ward. I  arrived  at  the  starting  point  to  find 
the  first  car  had  been  steadily  shelled  as  it  went 
along  the  road,  that  the  second,  containing 
Jack  Wendell  and  a  chauffeur  named  Hollinshed, 
had  not  returned  from  the  trip,  and  that  another 
car  had  gone  to  see  what  the  trouble  was. 

I  started  at  once  to  go  after  the  missing 
cars,  but  at  that  moment  Hoskier,  who  had 
gone  after  Wendell,  came  hurrying  round  the 
corner.  He  told  me  that  both  Wendell  and 
Hollinshed  had  been  wounded,  but  not  seri- 
ously, as  they  were  putting  some  wounded  in 
their  car;  that  they  were  being  cared  for  at  the 
poste;  that  they  begged  me  not  to  come  up  till 
dark;  that  the  authorities  at  the  poste  begged 
us  to  keep  away  for  fear  the  poste  would  be 
shelled,  and,  lastly,  he  said  it  was  obvious  the 
Boches  were  laying  for  us,  for  they  were  shell- 
ing our  road  steadily.  I 

This  was  obviously  the  right  thing  to  do, 
but  Lawrence  MacCreery  at  once  asked  to  be 
allowed  to  go  by  the  boyau  with  his  chauffeur; 
they  would  reach  the  poste  as  dark  fell  and 
would  bring  Wendell  and  Hollinshed  out  on 
their  car  if  that  had  not  been  destroyed.  This 
they  very  pluckily  did.  I,  meanwhile,  had  to 
report  to  the  authorities,  and  got  back  just  as 
Wendell  and  Hollinshed  had  been  fixed  up  by 


126     AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

the  doctors.  Wendell  has  a  slight  wound  in 
the  back,  Hollinshed  a  rather  more  severe  one 
in  the  shoulder.  They  behaved  in  a  way  to 
give  cause  to  their  families  to  be  extremely 
proud  of  them,  absolutely  refusing  to  return 
with  Hoskier,  but  insisting  on  his  taking  the 
four  bad  cases  they  had  gone  to  get.  They  will 
both  be  given  the  Croix  de  Guerre,  and  they 
well  deserve  it. 

Since  then  we  have  had  one  car  blown  to 
pieces  and  five  others  hit.  Our  Verdun  post  is 
shelled  every  evening,  and  one  of  the  others  was 
heavily  peppered  last  night.  The  division  has 
suffered  heavily,  and  I  do  not  think  can  stay 
more  than  a  few  days  more.  We  can't  either, 
if  we  go  on  losing  men  and  cars  at  this  rate. 

Till  to-day  it  has  rained  steadily,  which  has 
added  to  our  difficulties.  However,  we  are 
sticking  to  it  and  I  think  will  pull  off  the  work 
all  right. 

The  officials  of  the  French  Army  showed  a 
high  appreciation  of  the  value  of  Mr.  Norton's 
services.  Early  in  the  war  he  received  the 
Croix  de  Guerre,  the  Journal  Officiel,  in  the 
announcement  signed  by  General  Petain,  the 
commander  of  the  2d  Army,  referring  to  his 
services  as  follows: 

He  gave  proof  of  the  greatest  devotion  and 
finest  courage,  by  himself  driving  his  cars  day 


RICHARD   NORTON'S  MOTOR  CORPS     127 

and  night,  through  dangerous  zones  and  by 
giving  to  all  his  section  an  example  of  endur- 
ance carried  to  the  point  of  complete  exhaus- 
tion of  his  strength. 

After  the  work  of  Mr.  Norton's  corps  at  Ver- 
dun was  completed,  the  members  as  a  body 
were  cited  in  the  army  orders  of  the  day  for 
their  bravery  and  devotion  in  caring  for  the 
wounded.  "II  n'est  plus  un  seul  de  ses  mem- 
bres,"  concluded  the  citation,  "qui  ne  soit  un 
modele  de  sang-froid  et  d'abnegation.  Plusieurs 
d'entre  eux  ont  etc  blesses."  Finally  in  the 
spring  of  1917  the  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor, 
the  highest  decoration  to  be  won  in  France  by 
a  foreigner,  was  presented  to  Mr.  Norton. 

When  the  United  States  entered  the  war  Mr. 
Norton  had  charge  of  more  than  a  hundred  am- 
bulances on  the  western  battle-front,  and  was 
arranging  for  two  additional  sections  of  forty 
men  each.  He  was  urged  to  accept  a  commis- 
sion as  major  in  the  United  States  Army  and 
to  continue  in  control  of  the  ambulance  corps 
which  he  had  created  and  which  he  had  man- 
aged with  untiring  devotion  and  with  admira- 
ble results  for  two  and  a  half  years.  He  de- 


128     AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

clined  the  offer,  however,  and  in  September, 
1917,  retired  from  the  service.  Early  in  Au- 
gust, 1918,  he  died  suddenly  in  Paris  of  menin- 
gitis. 


XIV 
THE   WORK   OF   MR.   ANDREW'S   CORPS 

T7NTIRELY  distinct  from  the  Motor-Ambu- 
•*—'  lance  Corps,  of  which  Richard  Norton  was 
the  chief,  was  the  Field  Service  of  the  American 
Ambulance,  of  which  A.  Piatt  Andrew  was  the 
Inspector-General.  Mr.  Andrew  was  one  of  the 
contingent  of  American  volunteers  who  arrived 
in  Paris  early  in  1915.  He  was  a  man  of  ex- 
perience and  culture.  After  being  graduated 
at  Princeton  in  1893  he  had  studied  in  Ger- 
many and  in  Paris,  and  from  1900  to  1909  he 
was  an  instructor  and  assistant  professor  of 
economics  at  Harvard.  For  the  two  following 
years  he  was  Assistant  Secretary  of  the  United 
States  Treasury. 

To  the  energy  and  administrative  skill  of  Mr. 
Andrew  were  mainly  due  the  organization  and 
development  of  the  Field  Service  of  the  Ameri- 
can Ambulance  in  France,  the  full  story  of 
which,  told  in  detail  by  the  men  themselves 
who  formed  the  corps,  is  to  be  found  in  "Friends 

129 


130     AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

of  France."  In  recognition  of  his  services  to 
France,  Mr.  Andrew,  early  in  1917,  received  the 
Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  he  and  Mr.  Nor- 
ton being  the  only  two  Americans  engaged  in 
ambulance  work  upon  whom  this  distinction 
had  been  conferred  up  to  that  time. 

By  the  spring  of  1915  a  sufficient  number  of 
cars  and  drivers  had  been  assembled  in  Paris 
to  justify  the  request  that  the  French  authori- 
ties give  the  American  Ambulance  a  place  at 
the  front.  The  request  was  complied  with,  and 
by  the  end  of  April  three  sections,  each  compris- 
ing about  twenty  American  cars,  and  all  with 
American  volunteer  drivers,  were  in  operation, 
one  stationed  at  Dunkirk,  another  hi  Lorraine 
and  a  third  in  the  Vosges. 

From  these  small  beginnings  the  Field  Ser- 
vice of  the  American  Ambulance  developed 
rapidly,  until  nearly  two  years  later,  in  Janu- 
ary, 1917,  only  a  short  time  before  the  United 
States  entered  the  war,  Mr.  Andrew,  summariz- 
ing the  work  done,  could  write  as  follows  to  the 
Princeton  Alumni  Weekly: 

We  have  already  more  than  200  cars  driven 
by  American  volunteers,  mostly  university  men, 


THE  WORK  OF  MR.  ANDREW'S   CORPS     131 

grouped  in  sections  which  are  attached  to  divi- 
sions of  the  French  army.  These  sections  have 
served  at  the  front  in  Flanders,  on  the  Somme, 
on  the  Aisne,  in  Champagne,  at  Verdun  (five 
sections,  including  120  cars  at  the  height  of  the 
battle),  in  Lorraine  and  in  reconquered  Alsace, 
and  one  of  our  veteran  sections  has  received  the 
signal  tribute  from  the  French  army  staff  of 
being  attached  to  the  French  Army  of  the 
Orient  in  the  Balkans.  We  are  now  on  the 
point  of  enlarging  our  service  for  the  last  lap 
of  the  war,  and  a  considerable  number  of  new 
places  are  available. 

Every  American  has  reason  to  be  proud  of 
the  chapter  which  these  few  hundred  American 
youths  have  written  into  the  history  of  this 
prodigious  period.  Each  of  the  several  sections 
of  the  American  Ambulance  Field  Service  as  a 
whole  and  fifty-four  of  their  individual  members 
have  been  decorated  by  the  French  army  with 
the  Croix  de  Guerre  or  the  Medaille  Militaire 
for  valor  in  the  performance  of  their  work. 

It  was  obvious  that  young  college  men  formed 
the  most  available  class  for  this  service,  which 
called  for  leisure  and  certain  financial  resources, 
in  addition  to  initiative  and  intelligence.  A 
knowledge  of  the  mechanics  of  a  motor-car  and 
the  ability  to  speak  French  were  of  course  addi- 
tional and  valuable  assets.  Mr.  Norton  even 
considered  it  essential  that  his  men  should 


132     AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

know  some  French.  In  a  letter  to  the  secretary 
and  treasurer  of  his  corps  in  London,  Mr. 
H.  D.  Morrison,  he  wrote: 

Many  of  the  writers  whose  letters  I  have 
sent  you  express  a  delightful  confidence  that 
they  can  learn  enough  of  the  vernacular  on 
their  voyage  out  to  render  their  service  effec- 
tive. It  is  a  shame  to  dash  cold  water  on  such 
pleasing  beliefs,  but  the  fact  is  they  are  hope- 
lessly wrong.  They  are  like  the  man  who, 
when  asked  if  he  played  the  violin,  replied  "I 
don't  know;  I  have  never  tried."  Still  the  gen- 
eral spirit  of  the  letters  is  fine. 

The  young  college  men  of  the  country  made 
a  splendid  response  to  Mr.  Andrew's  appeals. 
As  given  in  the  list  at  the  end  of  "Friends 
of  France,"  the  members  of  the  American  Am- 
bulance who  had  been  in  the  Field  Service  down 
to  October,  1916,  numbered  349.  Of  this  num- 
ber 264  men  were  representatives  of  forty-eight 
American  universities,  colleges  and  schools,  and 
of  two  foreign  universities,  Paris  and  Cam- 
bridge. Of  these  264  men  there  were  89  from 
Harvard,  31  from  Princeton,  30  from  Yale,  11 
from  Dartmouth,  8  from  the  University  of 
Pennsylvania,  7  from  Columbia,  6  from  the 


THE  WORK  OF  MR.  ANDREW'S  CORPS     133 

Massachusetts  Institute  of  Technology,  5  from 
Amherst,  and  from  1  to  4  from  dozens  of  other 
institutions,  from  the  University  of  California 
in  the  West  to  Bowdoin  in  the  East.  Eighteen 
of  these  men  were  American  Rhodes  Scholars 
from  Oxford.  The  non-college  men  in  the 
group,  eighty-five  in  number,  were,  almost 
without  an  exception,  of  the  same  high  spirit 
and  of  the  same  fine  type  as  their  fellows. 

The  duties  which  all  the  men  in  the  Field 
Service  of  the  American  Ambulance  were  re- 
quired to  perform  involved  hardships,  depriva- 
tions, and  often  great  dangers.  Three  of  them 
were  killed  in  service — Richard  N.  Hall,  of  Ann 
Arbor,  Mich.,  Henry  M.  Suckley,  of  Rhine- 
beck,  N.  Y.,  and  Edward  J.  Kelley,  of  Phila- 
delphia. Many  of  them  were  wounded,  two  so 
severely  and  under  such  circumstances  as  to 
win  for  them  the  most  coveted  decoration  that 
the  French  Army  has  to  bestow,  the  Medaille 
Militaire,  which  carried  with  it  the  Croix  de 
Guerre  avec  Palme.  They  were  William  M. 
Barber,  of  Toledo,  Ohio,  and  Roswell  S.  San- 
ders, of  Newburyport,  Mass. 


XV 

THE  DEATH  OF  RICHARD  HALL 

THE  first  section  of  the  American  ambu- 
lance to  reach  the  front  in  April,  1915, 
had  its  headquarters  at  the  beginning  at  the 
town  of  Saint-Maurice,  on  the  headwaters  of 
the  Moselle,  about  fifteen  miles  north  of  Bel- 
fort,  near  the  Swiss  frontier.  At  first  number- 
ing only  ten  ambulances,  the  section  was  soon 
increased  to  twenty,  when  it  was  found  that  the 
light  but  strong  American  cars  could  replace  the 
mules  and  farm-wagons  which  up  to  that  time 
had  been  used  to  transport  the  wounded  over  the 
mountain  roads,  with  their  heavy  grades,  from 
the  dressing-stations  behind  the  firing-lines  to 
the  hospitals.  Later  the  headquarters  of  the 
section  were  moved  nearer  the  firing-lines  to 
Moosch,  in  the  valley  of  the  river  Thur,  which, 
flowing  in  a  southeasterly  direction,  emptied 
into  the  Rhine.  From  the  mountain  heights- 
the  front-line  French  trenches  overlooked  the 

134 


THE  DEATH  OF  RICHARD  HALL        135 

broad  Rhine  valley  to  the  east,  Mulhausen  and 
Colmar  being  within  full  view.  The  ten  miles 
or  so  between  Saint-Maurice  and  the  valley  of 
the  Thur  included  the  watershed  between  the 
Moselle  and  the  Rhine  and  the  boundary-line 
between  France  and  Germany. 

One  of  the  most  popular  men  in  this  Alsace 
section  was  Richard  N.  Hall,  of  Ann  Arbor, 
Michigan.  Immediately  after  being  graduated 
at  Dartmouth  in  June,  1915,  Hall  had  gone  to 
France  and  had  joined  the  American  Ambulance 
Field  Service,  becoming  a  member  of  the  third 
section  in  Alsace.  Under  the  title  "Christmas 
Eve,  1915,"  Waldo  Peirce,  of  Bangor,  Maine, 
in  "Friends  of  France,"  described  the  circum- 
stances under  which  Hall  met  his  death,  and 
indicated  the  affection  in  which  he  was  held  by 
his  mates: 

All  this  time,  as  in  all  the  past  months, 
Richard  Nelville  Hall  calmly  drove  his  car  up 
the  winding,  shell-swept  artery  of  the  mountain 
of  war, — past  crazed  mules,  broken-down  artil- 
lery carts,  swearing  drivers,  stricken  horses, 
wounded  stragglers  still  able  to  hobble, — past 
long  convoys  of  Boche  prisoners,  silent,  de- 
scending in  twos,  guarded  by  a  handful  of  men, — 


136     AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

past  all  the  personnel  of  war,  great  and  small 
(for  there  is  but  one  road,  one  road  on  which  to 
travel,  one  road  for  the  enemy  to  shell), — past 
abris,  bomb-proofs,  subterranean  huts,  to  arrive 
at  the  posies  de  secours,  where  silent  men  moved 
mysteriously  in  the  mist  under  the  great  trees, 
where  the  cars  were  loaded  with  an  ever-ready 
supply  of  still  more  quiet  figures  (though  some 
made  sounds),  mere  bundles  in  blankets. 

Hall  saw  to  it  that  those  quiet  bundles  were 
carefully  and  rapidly  installed, — right  side  up, 
for  instance, — for  it  is  dark  and  the  brancardiers 
are  dull  folks,  deadened  by  the  dead  they  carry; 
then  rolled  down  into  the  valley  below,  where 
little  towns  bear  stolidly  their  daily  burden  of 
shells  wantonly  thrown  from  somewhere  in 
Bocheland  over  the  mountain  to  somewhere  in 
France — the  bleeding  bodies  in  the  car  a  mere 
corpuscle  in  the  full  crimson  stream,  the  ever- 
rolling  tide  from  the  trenches  to  the  hospital, 
of  the  blood  of  life  and  the  blood  of  death. 

Once  there,  his  wounded  unloaded,  Dick 
Hall  filled  his  gasolene  tank  and  calmly  rolled 
again  on  his  way.  Two  of  his  comrades  had 
been  wounded  the  day  before,  but  Dick  Hall 
never  faltered.  He  slept  where  and  when  he 
could,  in  his  car,  at  the  poste,  on  the  floor  of  our 
temporary  kitchen  at  Moosch — dry  blankets- 
wet  blankets — blankets  of  mud — blankets  of 
blood;  contagion  was  pedantry — microbes  a 
myth. 

At  midnight  Christmas  Eve,  he  left  the  val- 
ley to  get  his  load  of  wounded  for  the  last  time. 


Richard  Hall. 


THE  DEATH  OF  RICHARD  HALL        137 

Alone,  ahead  of  him,  two  hours  of  lonely  driv- 
ing up  the  mountain.  Perhaps  he  was  thinking 
of  other  Christmas  Eves,  perhaps  of  his  distant 
home,  and  of  those  who  were  thinking  of  him. 

Matter,  the  next  American  to  pass,  found 
him  by  the  roadside  halfway  up  the  mountain. 
His  face  was  calm  and  his  hands  still  in  posi- 
tion to  grasp  the  wheel.  Matter,  and  Jennings, 
who  came  a  little  later,  bore  him  tenderly  back 
in  Matter's  car  to  Moosch,  where  his  brother, 
Louis  Hall,  learned  what  had  happened. 

A  shell  had  struck  his  car  and  killed  him 
instantly,  painlessly.  A  chance  shell  in  a  thou- 
sand had  struck  him  at  his  post,  in  the  morn- 
ing of  his  youth. 

The  body  of  Richard  Hall  was  buried  with 
all  the  honors  of  war  in  the  valley  of  Saint- 
Amarin,  his  grave  being  next  to  that  of  a 
French  officer  who  fell  the  same  morning.  At 
the  end  of  the  service  Hall's  citation  was  read 
and  the  Croix  de  Guerre  was  pinned  to  his 
coffin.  A  translation  of  the  latter  half  of  the 
address  of  the  surgeon-in-chief  of  the  66th 
Division,  Dr.  Georges,  follows: 

Barely  graduated  from  Dartmouth  College, 
in  the  noble  enthusiasms  of  his  youth  he  brought 
to  France  the  invaluable  cooperation  of  his 


138    AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

charitable  heart — coming  hither  to  gather  up 
on  the  battlefields  of  Alsace  those  of  our  gallant 
troops  who  were  wounded  fighting  for  their 
beloved  country. 

He  died  like  a  "Chevalier  de  la  Bienfaisance," 
like  an  American,  while  engaged  in  a  work  of 
kindness  and  Christian  charity ! 

To  the  dear  ones  whom  he  has  left  in  his 
own  land,  in  Michigan,  to  his  grief-stricken 
parents,  to  his  older  brother  who  displays  here 
among  us  such  stoicism  in  his  grief,  our  respect 
and  our  expressions  of  sorrow  are  most  sincere 
and  heartfelt. 

Driver  Richard  Hall,  you  are  to  be  laid  to 
rest  here,  in  the  shadow  of  the  tri-colored  flag, 
beside  all  these  brave  fellows,  whose  gallantry 
you  have  emulated.  You  are  justly  entitled  to 
make  one  of  their  consecrated  battalion  !  Your 
body  alone,  gloriously  mutilated,  disappears; 
your  soul  has  ascended  to  God;  your  memory 
remains  in  our  hearts — imperishable  ! — French- 
men do  not  forget ! 

Driver  Richard  Hall — farewell ! 


XVI 

AROUND  BOIS-LE-PRfeTRE,  THE  "FOREST  OP 
DEATH" 

PONT-A-MOUSSON,  which  became  the 
headquarters  for  ten  months  of  Section  2 
of  the  Field  Service  of  the  American  Ambulance, 
is  near  the  Lorraine  border,  at  the  apex  of  a  tri- 
angle at  the  base  of  which  are  Nancy  and  Toul. 
It  is  on  the  Moselle  River,  and  lies  only  a  dozen 
or  so  miles  east  of  Seicheprey,  where  the  Ameri- 
can soldiers  first  came  in  conflict  with  the  Ger- 
mans. The  section  consisted  of  twenty  cars, 
and  the  Americans  in  charge  of  them  numbered 
twenty-four,  under  the  leadership  of  Edward 
Van  D.,  or,  as  he  was  more  commonly  called, 
Ned,  Salisbury,  of  Chicago.  Constant  and  vio- 
lent fighting  in  the  near-by  region  in  and  around 
Bois-le-Pretre,  the  "Forest  of  Death,"  the  Ger- 
mans called  it,  kept  the  section  busy  during  the 
summer  of  1915,  Pont-a-Mousson  and  the 
neighboring  towns  and  villages  being  frequently 

139 


140    AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

under  shell-fire.  The  section  began  its  work 
in  April,  at  first  under  the  direction  of  French 
orderlies.  The  Americans,  however,  were  so 
quick  to  learn,  and  adapted  themselves  to  their 
new  duties  so  readily,  that  in  a  short  tune  the 
French  section  was  transferred  to  another  post 
and  the  Americans  were  left  in  sole  charge  of 
the  work. 

Two  of  the  members  of  this  section  have  left 
a  full  record  of  its  personnel  and  of  its  daily 
activities — James  R.  McConnell,  of  Carthage, 
North  Carolina,  and  Leslie  Buswell,  of  Glouces- 
ter, Massachusetts.  McConnell's  narrative  was 
printed  in  the  Outlook  for  September,  1915,  with 
an  introduction  by  Colonel  Roosevelt;  and  the 
paper  was  so  full  of  information  and  was  written 
with  such  vividness,  freshness  and  humor,  that 
it  deserved  all  the  praise  it  received.  The  article 
was  reprinted  in  "Friends  of  France."  Here 
is  McConnell's  picture  of  the  scene  when  the 
shelling  was  active: 

It  was  a  day  when  the  shelling  seemed  to  be 
general,  for  shrapnel  and  small  77  shells  were 
also  bursting  at  intervals  over  and  in  a  little 
town  one  passes  through  in  order  to  avoid  a 


AROUND  THE  "FOREST  OF  DEATH"     141 

more  heavily  bombarded  outer  route  on  the 
way  to  the  postes  de  secours.  It  was  magnifi- 
cent descending  the  hill  from  the  postes  that 
afternoon.  To  the  left  French  75  shells  were 
in  rapid  action;  and  one  could  see  the  explosion 
of  the  German  shells  just  over  the  crest  of  the 
long  ridge  where  the  batteries  were  firing.  It 
was  a  clear,  sparkling  day,  and  against  the 
vivid  green  of  the  hills,  across  the  winding 
river,  the  little  white  puffs  of  shrapnel  explod- 
ing over  the  road  below  were  in  perfect  relief, 
while  from  the  red-tiled  roofs  of  the  town, 
nestling  in  the  valley  below,  tall  columns  of 
black  smoke  spurted  up  where  the  large  shells 
struck.  Little  groups  of  soldiers,  the  color  of 
whose  uniforms  added  greatly  to  the  picture, 
were  crowded  against  the  low  stone  walls  lining 
the  road  to  observe  the  firing;  and  one  sensed 
the  action  and  felt  the  real  excitement  of  the 
sort  of  war  one  imagines  instead  of  the  uninter- 
esting horror  of  the  cave-dweller  combats  that 
are  the  rule  in  this  war. 

In  contrast  with  the  foregoing  is  McConnelFs 
description  of  the  night-work  of  the  American 
ambulance  drivers: 

The  work  at  night  is  quite  eerie,  and  on 
moonless  nights  quite  difficult.  No  lights  are 
allowed,  and  the  inky  black  way  ahead  seems 
packed  with  a  discordant  jumble  of  sounds  as 
the  never-ending  artillery  and  ravitaillement 


142    AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

trains  rattle  along.  One  creeps  past  convoy 
after  convoy,  past  sentinels  who  cry,  "Halte  la  !  " 
and  then  whisper  an  apologetic  "Passez"  when 
they  make  out  the  ambulance;  and  it  is  only 
in  the  dazzling  light  of  the  illuminating  rockets 
that  shoot  into  the  air  and  sink  slowly  over  the 
trenches  that  one  can  see  to  proceed  with  any 
speed. 

It  is  at  night,  too,  that  our  hardest  work 
comes,  for  that  is  usually  the  time  when  attacks 
and  counter-attacks  are  made  and  great  num- 
bers of  men  are  wounded.  Sometimes  all 
twenty  of  the  Section  cars  will  be  in  service. 
It  is  then  that  one  sees  the  most  frightfully 
wounded:  the  men  with  legs  and  arms  shot 
away,  mangled  faces,  and  hideous  body  wounds. 
It  is  a  time  when  men  die  in  the  ambulances 
before  they  reach  the  hospitals,  and  I  believe 
nearly  every  driver  in  the  Section  has  had  at 
least  one  distressing  experience  of  that  sort. 

Through  all  the  excitement,  however,  these 
young  Americans  preserved  their  characteristic 
traits.  Thus  McConnell  notes: 

No  matter  how  long  the  war  lasts,  I  do  not 
believe  that  the  members  of  Section  Y  will  lose 
any  of  their  native  ways,  attitudes,  or  tastes. 
They  will  remain  just  as  American  as  ever. 
Why,  they  still  fight  for  a  can  of  American 
tobacco  or  a  box  of  cigarettes  that  comes  from 
the  States,  when  such  a  rare  and  appreciated 


AROUND   THE  "FOREST   OF   DEATH"     143 

article  does  turn  up,  and  papers  and  magazines 
from  home  are  sure  to  go  the  rounds,  finding 
themselves  at  length  in  the  hands  of  English- 
reading  soldiers  in  the  trenches.  I  never  could 
understand  the  intense  grip  that  the  game  of 
baseball  seems  to  possess,  but  it  holds  to  some 
members  of  the  Section  with  a  cruel  pertinacity. 
One  very  dark  night,  a  few  days  ago,  two  of  us 
were  waiting  at  an  advanced  paste  de  secours. 
The  rifle  and  artillery  fire  was  constant,  illu- 
minating rockets  shot  into  the  air,  and  now 
and  then  one  could  distinguish  the  heavy  dull 
roar  of  a  mine  or  torpille  detonating  in  the 
trenches.  War  in  all  its  engrossing  detail  was 
very  close.  Suddenly  my  friend  turned  to  me 
and,  with  a  sigh,  remarked,  "  Gee !  I  wish  I 
knew  how  the  Red  Sox  were  making  out !" 

Thursday,  the  22d  of  July,  1915,  was  a  mem- 
orable day  for  the  Americans  in  Pont-a-Mous- 
son.  The  town  was  heavily  shelled,  and  it  was 
only  by  the  narrowest  margin  that  some  of 
them  were  not  killed.  As  it  was,  they  lost  their 
faithful  orderly  and  general  servant,  Mignot, 
to  whom  they  were  all  greatly  attached. 

A  graphic  narrative  of  the  occurrences  of  that 
day  is  to  be  found  in  one  of  the  letters  that 
make  up  the  book  called  "Ambulance  No.  10," 
by  Leslie  Buswell,  of  Gloucester,  Massachusetts, 


144    AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

a  member  of  the  section.     Under  date  of  Pont-a- 
Mousson,  July  24,  1915,  Buswell  wrote: 

.  .  .  We  got  back  to  lunch  about  12  o'clock, 
and  Mignot,  our  indefatigable  friend  in  the 
position  of  a  general  servant,  upbraided  us  for 
our  unpunctuality,  etc. 

We  had  hardly  finished  lunch  when  a  shell 
burst  some  twenty  metres  away  and  we  hur- 
riedly took  to  the  cellar,  while  eleven  more 
shells  exploded  all  around  our  headquarters, 
or  "caserne,"  as  we  call  it.  We  then  went  for 
a  round  of  inspection  and  found  that  the  twelve 
shells  had  all  fallen  on  our  side  of  the  road  and 
were  all  within  forty  or  fifty  metres  of  us. 
This  made  us  feel  pretty  sure  that  the  shells 
were  meant  for  us  or  for  our  motors.  Schroder* 
and  I  discussed  the  matter,  and  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  we  did  not  like  the  situation 
very  much,  and  that  if  the  Germans  sent  per- 
haps six  shells,  all  at  once,  we  should  many  of 
us  get  caught.  I  was  very  tired,  and  at  about 
one-thirty  went  to  sleep  and  slept  until  five- 
thirty,  when  I  went  to  dinner  at  the  caserne. 

The  evening  meal  over,  an  argument  started 
about  the  merits  of  a  periodical  called  Le  Mot 
(do  you  know  it?) — a  kind  of  futurist  paper. 
After  a  rapid-fire  commentary  from  one  and 
then  another  of  us,  which  continued  until 
about  eight-thirty,  Schroder  and  I  decided  to 
go  to  our  rooms  to  bed.  We  were  walking 

*  Bernard  N.  P.  Schroder,  the  only  representative  in  the  American 
Ambulance  Field  Service  of  Northwestern  University. 


AROUND  THE  "FOREST  OF  DEATH"     145 

home  when  I  reminded  him  that  he  had  been 
asked  to  tell  four  of  our  fellows  who  slept  in  a 
house  near  by  to  be  sure  that  no  light  could  be 
seen  through  the  shutters;  so  turning  back  we 
rapped  on  the  window  and  heard  merry  laugh- 
ter and  were  greeted  with  a  cheery  invitation 
to  join  the  nine  wTho  had  gathered  inside.  It 
seems  that  one  of  them,  who  had  been  on  duty 
at  Montauville,  had  managed  to  get  some  fresh 
bread  and  butter  and  jam,  and  they  were  cele- 
brating the  event!  We  had  to  decline  their 
friendly  hospitality,  however,  as  we  wanted  to 
get  some  sleep. 

I  had  just  got  my  boots  off  when — whish-sh- 
sh-bang!  bang!  bang!  bang! — four  huge  shells 
burst  a  little  way  down  the  road  towards  our 
caserne.  Thirty  seconds  after  came  two  more 
— five  minutes  later  six  more — and  then  we 
heard  a  screaming  woman  ejaculating  hysteri- 
cally "C'est  les  Americains."  Schroder  and  I 
looked  at  each  other  without  speaking.  We 
hurriedly  dressed  and  started  to  run  to  the 
caserne — women  and  soldiers  shouting  to  us  to 
stay  where  we  were;  but  rushing  on  through 
the  fog,  smoke  and  dust,  we  reached  head- 
quarters. There  we  found  the  rest  of  the  Sec- 
tion in  the  cellar,  and  hurriedly  going  over  those 
present,  realized  that  two  were  absent — Mignot 
and  the  mechanic  of  the  French  officer  attached 
to  us. 

Mignot,  it  was  found,  had  been  killed  by  one 
of  the  shells;  also  two  women,  while  several 


146     AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

others,    including    the    mechanic,    were    badly 
wounded.     The  narrative  continues: 

Ogilvie*  got  his  car  and  we  got  our  stretchers 
out  to  take  away  the  blesses.  There  were  a 
few  of  us  grouped  about  some  seven  or  eight 
— and  near — with  the  wounded  just  put  on 
stretchers,  when — "Look  out!"  Bang!  Bang! 
Bang  ! — three  more  shells. 

We  had  already  thrown  ourselves  on  the 
ground,  and  then,  finding  we  were  still  alive, 
feverishly  loaded  the  car.  "Good  God!  I've 
stalled  it,"  said  the  driver — then  the  cranking — 
would  it  never  start — try  again — thank  Heaven, 
it  was  off !  Hardly  thirty  seconds  after,  whish- 
sh-bang  !  bang  I  two  more  came.  We  retired  to 
a  cellar  for  a  few  minutes,  as  the  three  dead 
could  stay  there  while  it  was  so  terribly  dan- 
gerous. At  last  we  emerged  and  were  about 
to  lift  Mignot's  body  when  both  arms  moved. 
Was  he  alive,  after  all?  No,  it  was  only  the 
electric  wires  he  was  lying  on  that  had  stimu- 
lated his  muscles.  The  car  turned  the  corner 
with  the  three  dead,  and  we  ran  back  to  the 
caserne. 

There  we  found  the  rest  of  our  Section  very 
shaken  indeed.  A  shell  had  burst  just  outside 
of  the  house  where  the  nine  were  making  merry 
and  the  violence  of  the  impact  had  hurled  all 
of  them  to  the  ground.  Two  feet  nearer  and 
the  whole  lot  would  have  been  killed. 

*  Francis  D.  Ogilvie,  of  Liadfield,  Sussex,  England. 


AROUND  THE  "FOREST  OF  DEATH"  147 

As  a  result  of  this  bombardment  and  of  an 
attack  by  the  Germans  on  the  town,  the  head- 
quarters of  Section  2  were  moved  the  next  day 
to  Dieulouard,  five  or  six  miles  to  the  south  of 
Pont-a-Mousson. 


XVII 
IN  THE  GREAT  BATTLE  FOR  VERDUN 

WHEN  in  February,  1916,  the  German  army 
of  the  Crown  Prince  began  its  attack 
upon  the  French  troops  protecting  Verdun,  the 
men  composing  Section  2  of  the  American  Am- 
bulance were  hastily  transferred  from  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Pont-a-Mousson  to  Verdun.  In  the 
previous  month  Section  3  had  been  moved  from 
its  station  in  Alsace  to  the  Lorraine  front,  and 
the  men  of  this  section  were  also  at  Verdun. 
The  need  of  more  ambulances  finally  became  so 
great  that  two  additional  American  sections 
were  sent  to  the  neighborhood  of  Verdun. 

Frank  Hoyt  Gailor,  of  Memphis,  Tennessee, 
a  member  of  Section  2,  contributed  to  the 
Cornhill  Magazine  for  July,  1916,  a  vivid  de- 
scription of  the  journey  of  the  section  to  a  vil- 
lage near  Verdun,  by  way  of  Bar-le-Duc.  From 
this  paper  as  it  appears  in  full  in  "Friends  of 
France,"  a  few  paragraphs  may  be  quoted: 

We  started  from  Bar-le-Duc  about  noon  [on 
February  22,  1916],  and  it  took  us  six  hours 

148 


IN  THE  GREAT  BATTLE  FOR  VERDUN     149 

to  make  forty  miles  through  roads  covered  with 
snow,  swarming  with  troops,  and  all  but  blocked 
by  convoys  of  food  carts  and  sections  of  trucks. 
Of  course,  we  knew  that  there  was  an  attack  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Verdun,  but  we  did  not 
know  who  was  making  it  or  how  it  was  going. 
Then  about  four  o'clock  in  the  short  winter 
twilight  we  passed  two  or  three  regiments  of 
French  colonial  troops  on  the  march  with  all 
their  field  equipment.  I  knew  who  and  what 
they  were  by  the  curious  Eastern  smell  that  I 
had  always  before  associated  with  camels  and 
circuses.  They  were  lined  up  on  each  side  of 
the  road  around  their  soup  kitchens,  which  were 
smoking  busily,  and  I  had  a  good  look  at  them 
as  we  drove  along. 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  seen  an  African 
army  in  the  field,  and  though  they  had  had  a 
long  march,  they  were  cheerful  and  in  high 
spirits  at  the  prospect  of  battle.  They  were  all 
young,  active  men,  and  of  all  colors  and  com- 
plexions, from  blue-eyed  blonds  to  shiny  blacks. 
They  all  wore  khaki  and  brown  shrapnel  casques 
bearing  the  trumpet  insignia  of  the  French 
sharpshooter.  We  were  greeted  with  laughter 
and  chaff,  for  the  most  part,  in  an  unknown 
chatter,  but  now  and  again  some  one  would 
say,  "Hee,  hee,  Ambulance  Americaine,"  or 
"Yes,  Ingliish,  good-bye."  .  .  . 

At  about  six  in  the  evening  we  reached  our 
destination  some  forty  miles  northeast  of  Bar- 
le-Duc.  The  little  village  where  we  stopped 
had  been  a  railroad  centre  until  the  day  before, 


150     AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

when  the  Germans  started  bombarding  it. 
Now  the  town  was  evacuated,  and  the  smoking 
station  deserted.  The  place  had  ceased  to 
exist,  except  for  a  hospital  which  was  estab- 
lished on  the  southern  edge  of  the  town  in  a 
lovely  old  chateau,  overlooking  the  Meuse. 
We  were  called  up  to  the  hospital  as  soon  as 
we  arrived  to  take  such  wounded  as  could  be 
moved  to  the  nearest  available  rail-head,  which 
was  ten  miles  away,  on  the  main  road,  and  four 
miles  south  of  Verdun.  We  started  out  in  con- 
voy, but  with  the  then  conditions  of  traffic,  it 
was  impossible  to  stick  together,  and  it  took 
some  of  us  till  five  o'clock  the  next  morning  to 
make  the  trip.  That  was  the  beginning  of  the 
attack  for  us,  and  the  work  of  "evacuating"  the 
wounded  to  the  railway  stations  went  steadily 
on  until  March  15.  It  was  left  to  the  driver 
to  decide  how  many  trips  it  was  physically  pos- 
sible for  him  to  make  in  each  twenty-four 
hours.  There  were  more  wounded  than  could 
be  carried,  and  no  one  could  be  certain  of  keep- 
ing any  kind  of  schedule  with  the  roads  as  they 
then  were. 

Sometimes  we  spent  five  or  six  hours  wait- 
ing at  a  cross-road,  while  columns  of  troops 
and  their  equipment  filed  steadily  by.  Some- 
times at  night  we  could  make  a  trip  in  two 
hours  that  had  taken  us  ten  in  daylight.  Some- 
times, too,  we  crawled  slowly  to  a  station  only 
to  find  it  deserted,  shells  falling,  and  the  hospi- 
tal moved  to  some  still  more  distant  point  of 
the  line.  Situations  and  conditions  changed 


IN  THE  GREAT  BATTLE  FOR  VERDUN     151 

from  day  to  day — almost  from  hour  to  hour. 
One  day  it  was  sunshine  and  spring,  with  roads 
six  inches  deep  in  mud,  no  traffic,  and  nothing 
to  remind  one  of  war,  except  the  wounded  in 
the  car  and  the  distant  roar  of  the  guns,  which 
sounded  like  a  giant  beating  a  carpet.  The 
next  day  it  was  winter  again,  with  mud  turned 
to  ice,  the  roads  blocked  with  troops,  and  the 
Germans  turning  hell  loose  with  their  heavy 
guns. 


XVIII 
WILLIAM  BARBER'S  M^DAILLE  MILITAIRE 

BEGINNING  on  February  21,  1916,  the 
battle  for  Verdun,  with  the  repeated  Ger- 
man attacks  and  the  French  counter-attacks, 
lasted  for  weeks  and  even  months.  One  of  the 
most  thrilling  experiences  of  the  American  Am- 
bulance drivers  was  that  of  William  Barber,  of 
Toledo,  Ohio,  who  was  the  only  representative 
of  Oberlin  in  the  section  which  had  come  to 
Verdun  from  Alsace.  The  story  begins  with 
the  following  selections  from  the  letter  of  a 
Harvard  ambulance  driver  to  his  uncle,  which 
was  printed  anonymously  in  the  Red  Cross 
Magazine  for  October,  1916.  Accompanying 
the  letter,  which  was  in  the  form  of  a  diary- 
vivid  memoranda  of  incidents  during  six  suc- 
cessive June  nights — was  an  injunction  "not  to 
let  dad  know  about  this,  for  it  would  w 
him."  Here  is  the  writer's  description  of  one 
night's  experience: 

Fourth  Night:  Filled  up  gas  and  oil  and  off 
again:  headquarters  changed  into  Verdun  be- 

152 


BARBER'S  MfiDAILLE  MILITAIRE       153 

cause  of  bombardment  of  suburb.  Black  as 
pitch  and  heavy  rain.  Heavy  traffic  of  all 
kinds  on  road.  Terrible  driving.  Heavy  fir- 
ing; dead  horses  and  smashed  wagons,  etc., 
strewed  all  along.  O.  K.  to  post.  On  way 
back  met  great  tangle  in  road:  six  horses  killed 
in  one  spot;  dead  and  wounded  men  and  busted 
wagons  all  mixed  up  in  middle  of  road.  Got 
out;  was  in  act  of  cutting  dead  horses'  traces 
with  knife;  "bang"  without  warning  and  another 
in  the  same  spot.  Thrown  down  among  the 
tangle;  face  in  a  pool  of  horses'  gore;  showered 
with  rocks  and  stuff  of  every  kind.  Sharp  pain 
in  shoulder.  Thought  had  got  one;  turned  out 
to  be  only  a  bruise.  Another  man  in  back  of 
me  same;  more  wounded,  groaning  all  around; 
don't  know  how  many  dead;  could  not  hear 
for  two  hours,  and  still  have  ringing  in  my 
ears.  Saw  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait 
until  firing  was  over.  Ran  back  in  ditch  in 
side  of  road  and  got  behind  tree  and  big  rock. 
More  came,  but  I  was  O.  K.  .  .  .  Let  up  for 
a  minute;  ran  through  debris  to  stop  other  cars 
coming  in  opposite  direction.  Met  two  just  on 
other  side;  dove  under  car;  shell  went  off  pretty 
near.  Some  one  jumped  off  car  and  followed 
me;  it  was  Paul.  We  stayed  there  a  couple  of 
minutes  and  talked;  will  never  forget  it- 
He  got  back  to  headquarters  safely,  running 
at  high  speed,  "low  not  working,"  with  two 
shrapnel  dents  in  his  helmet  and  many  scan 


154    AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

on  his  car.  The  next  night  he  rescued  a 
wounded  comrade,  young  Barber,  as  thus  nar- 
rated: 

Fifth  Night. — Got  to  post  O.  K.  Heavy 
traffic;  firing;  road  stinking  of  dead  flesh.  Orr 
way  back  heard  forlorn  cry  of  Barber.  Stopped 
and  found  him  in  arms  of  Frenchman  by  side 
of  road.  Nerves  gone  so  he  couldn't  talk 
straight.  Car  had  been  hit;  he  was  wounded; 
pumping  hell  out  of  road  ahead  where  his  car 
was.  He  had  crawled  back;  was  afraid  to  let 
him  wait.  Dragged  him  into  front  alongside 
of  me  and  made  a  dash;  never  drove  so  fast  in 
all  my  life.  Passed  his  car;  whole  back  shot 
off  and  wheels  gone.  Got  to  last  bridge  and 
found  artillery  coming  across  in  opposite  direc- 
tion. Crawled  across  one  side  on  remains  of  a 
railroad  track.  Grabbed  leading  horses  of  a 
battery  by  bridle,  and  jammed  them  over  on 
one  side  of  road,  commanding  riders  to  wait; 
must  have  thought  I  was  an  officer;  because 
they  did;  hurried  back  and  drove  across.  Got 
to  headquarters  O.  K.  and  got  Barber  into 
dressing  room.  Worst  wound  was  on  his  back, 
but  a  glancing  one.  He  will  pull  through. 

The  sequel  to  this  drama,  which  came  so 
near  having  a  tragic  ending,  is  to  be  found  in 
the  following  selections  from  a  letter  dated 
June  30,  which  Barber  wrote  from  the  hospital 


BARBER'S  MEDAILLE  MILITAIRE       155 

to  his  family  and  which  is  printed  entire  in 
"Friends  of  France": 

Four  nights  ago  I  had  a  pretty  narrow  es- 
cape. I  can  mention  no  names  here,  but  this 
is  the  gist  of  the  story: — 

I  was  driving  my  car  with  three  wounded 
soldiers  in  it  along  a  road  that  was  being  shelled. 
Well,  I  got  in  the  midst  of  a  pretty  hot  shower, 
so  I  stopped  my  car  and  got  under  it.  A  few 
minutes  later  I  supposed  it  was  blowing  over, 
so  I  got  out.  I  had  no  sooner  done  so  than  I 
heard  one  of  those  big  obus  coming,  the  loudest 
I  had  ever  heard.  I  ran  to  the  front  of  my 
car,  crouching  down  in  front  of  the  radiator. 
When  it  burst  it  struck  the  car.  My  three 
soldiers  were  killed.  I  was  hurt  only  a  little. 
I  am  not  disfigured  in  any  way.  It  just  tore 
my  side  and  legs  a  bit. 

The  French  treated  me  wonderfully.  I  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  the  next  American  Ambu- 
lance driven  by  Wheeler  (a  great  boy)  who 

took  me  to  the  City  of where  our  poste  is. 

Here  I  was  given  first  aid,  and  the  Medecin  chef 
personally  conducted  me  in  an  American  Am- 
bulance, in  the  middle  of  the  night,  to  a  very 
good  hospital.  They  say  I  have  the  best  doc- 
tor in  France — in  Paris. 

Well,  I  woke  up  the  next  day  in  a  bed,  and 
have  been  recuperating  ever  since.  Every  one 
is  wonderful  to  me.  General  Petain,  second  to 
Joffre,  has  stopped  in  to  shake  hands  with  me, 
and  many  are  my  congratulations,  too,  for  above 


156    AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

my  bed  hangs  the  Medaille  Militaire  t  the  greatest 
honor  the  French  can  give  any  one.  Really,  I 
am  proud,  although  I  don't  deserve  it  any  more 
than  the  rest.  Please  excuse  my  egotism. 

This  letter  identifies  the  rescuer  of  Barber  as 
Walter  H.  Wheeler,  of  Yonkers,  N.  Y.,  who  had 
been  with  Barber  in  Alsace  before  coming  to 
Verdun.  After  he  had  turned  Barber  over  to 
the  medical  men,  Wheeler  was  sent  back  to  get 
the  wounded  from  Barber's  car.  But  he  found 
that  the  same  shell  that  had  wrecked  the  car 
and  had  injured  Barber  had  killed  the  three 
wounded  soldiers  who  were  in  the  car. 

For  their  courageous  work  through  these 
dreadful  nights  the  entire  section  received  an 
army  citation  and  as  a  body  the  Croix  de 
Guerre.  Wheeler  and  three  of  his  companions 
received  individual  citations  and  each  the  Croix 
de  Guerre.  The  Medaille  Militaire  which  was 
awarded  to  Barber  carried  with  it  the  Croix  de 
Guerre  avec  Palme.  The  only  other  driver  in 
the  American  Ambulance  Field  Service  upon 
whom  the  Medaille  Militaire  had  been  bestowred, 
up  to  November,  1916,  was  Roswell  S.  Sanders, 
of  Newburyport,  Mass. 


XIX 

TWO  YALE  MEN  AT  VERDUN 

AMONG  the  Americans  who  won  distinction 
•L  *-  by  their  devotion  to  their  difficult  and 
dangerous  duties  as  drivers  of  ambulances  at 
Verdun  were  several  Yale  men,  brief  records  of 
whom  are  available.  Elmore  McNeill  Bost- 
wick,  of  St.  Louis,  having  completed  his  year's 
work  at  college  by  Christmas,  1915,  sailed  for 
France,  and  with  a  classmate,  George  K. 
Haupt,  of  Buffalo,  became  an  ambulance  driver 
in  what  was  called  the  "Formation  Harjes,"  to 
which  was  awarded  the  Croix  de  Guerre  for  its 
services  at  Verdun.  Here  is  a  paragraph  from 
a  letter  from  Bostwick,  which  appeared  in  the 
Yale  Alumni  Weekly,  describing  his  sensations 
during  an  enemy  attack  from  the  air: 

After  breakfast,  just  before  we  started  out, 
I  was  treated  to  my  first  air  attack.  Eight 
German  aeroplanes  came  over  the  town  and 
attempted  to  destroy  the  military  headquarters. 
As  we  were  right  next  door  to  them,  it  was 
rather  disturbing.  An  air  attack  is  the  most 

157 


158    AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

nerve  racking  thing  in  the  world.  You  see 
these  little  things,  looking  for  all  the  world  like 
hornets,  apparently  exactly  over  your  head. 
You  hear  a  whistling  sound,  lie  on  the  ground 
flat  on  your  face  and  wait  for  the  explosion 
which  comes  about  three  seconds  after  you  first 
hear  the  bomb  coming.  I  can  tell  you  you  do 
a  lot  of  thinking  in  those  three  seconds,  and 
each  time  you  feel  as  though  the  bomb  was 
going  to  hit  you  right  in  the  small  of  the  back. 
They  dropped  sixteen  bombs  that  morning, 
but  no  one  was  hurt,  though  one  dropped  within 
fifty  feet  of  where  I  was  lying. 

This  reference  to  the  "Formation  Harjes" 
calls  for  a  word  of  explanation.  The  first  lot  of 
ambulances  which  the  American  Red  Cross  sent 
abroad  consisted  of  seventeen  Ford  cars,  the 
cost  of  which  was  met  by  contributions  from 
students  at  Yale  and  Harvard,  twelve  being  the 
gift  of  Yale  and  five  of  Harvard.  Writing  in 
the  spring  of  1916  of  the  work  which  these  cars 
had  accomplished,  Mr.  H.  Herman  Harjes, 
president  of  the  American  Relief  Clearing 
House  in  Paris  and  the  official  representative 
for  France  of  the  American  Red  Cross,  said: 

The  original  American  Red  Cross  ambulance 
unit  is  doing  very  good  and  sacisiartory  work 


TWO  YALE  MEN  AT  VERDUN          15P 

in  every  respect.  It  has  transported  up  to 
date  about  16,000  wounded.  All  the  men  are 
very  devoted  and  full  of  energy,  and  the  service 
they  are  rendering  is  much  appreciated. 

The  French  authorities  having  expressed  a 
desire  that  the  general  control  of  all  the  Ameri- 
can ambulances  and  drivers  be  placed  in  the 
hands  of  the  American  Red  Cross,  the  arrange- 
ment was  made,  the  cars  remaining,  of  course, 
under  the  immediate  direction  of  the  French 
army  officers  for  service  at  the  front.  Mr. 
Harjes,  in  the  same  letter  to  the  American  Red 
Cross,  explained  the  transfer  under  this  arrange- 
ment, of  Mr.  Norton's  Motor  Ambulance  Corps, 
as  follows: 

A  unit  known  as  the  "American  Volunteer 
Motor  Ambulance  Corps,"  having  Mr.  Richard 
Norton  at  its  head,  has  now  come  under  the 
American  Red  Cross.  His  section  was,  up  to 
quite  recently,  under  the  British  Red  Cross, 
and  has  been  doing  excellent  work.  .  .  .  All 
the  volunteer  American  work  in  the  field  has 
been  really  splendidly  done  and  is  extremely 
appreciated  by  everybody. 

The  following  paragraph  from  a  letter  from 
W.  P.  Clyde,  Jr.,  of  the  Yale  class  of  1901, 


160    AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

which  also  appeared  in  the  Yale  Alumni  Weekly, 
gives  a  glimpse  of  the  spirit  which  these  Ameri- 
can volunteers  brought  to  their  arduous  and 
often  perilous  work: 

Under  these  conditions  your  eyes  smart 
and  your  throat  becomes  dry  from  dust,  the 
fumes  and  the  strain.  The  air  at  night  on 
roads  near  the  front  is  heavy  with  the  smell  of 
burnt  powder  and  also  that  other  odor  with 
which  all  Verdun  reeks — of  the  dead  hastily 
buried,  or  left  as  they  died,  or  burned  beneath 
the  fallen  walls  and  ruins.  We  carried  wounded, 
we  carried  those  gone  mad  from  shell-shock, 
we  carried  the  dying,  even  the  dead.  Among 
the  thousands  of  wounded  in  our  cars  were 
some  Germans,  and  they  received  from  us  and 
in  the  French  dressing  stations  and  field  hos- 
pitals the  same  care  as  the  others.  For  the 
Allies  do  not  hate  the  poor,  half-starved,  bullied, 
and  driven  German  Yokels  who  now  compose 
the  bulk  of  the  German  soldiery.  Even  we 
whose  work  is  a  work  of  mercy  have  come  to 
have  the  greatest  hatred  for  the  Heads  of  the 
Huns  and  all  that  Hundom  stands  for;  besides 
helping  the  wounded  it  is  a  great  satisfaction 
to  every  member  of  our  corps  to  feel  that,  as 
perfectly  good  Americans,  we  are  doing  more 
than  just  "watching  and  waiting"  by  helping 
the  Allies  defeat  for  all  tune  the  attempt  of 
the  Hun  to  enslave  the  world. 


XX 

HENRY  SUCKLEY  KILLED  BY  A  BOMB 

BY  some  odd  decree  of  chance  an  unusual 
number  of  Harvard  men  found  themselves 
in  the  Vosges  section  of  the  American  Ambu- 
lance Field  Service;  and  as  one  form  of  diver- 
sion it  amused  these  young  men  to  call  them- 
selves the  Harvard  Club  of  Alsace  Reconquise. 
The  club  came  into  being  on  the  night  before 
the  Harvard-Yale  football  game  in  November, 
1915,  and  its  official  life  seems  to  have  ended 
when  the  health  of  the  Harvard  team  was 
drunk  after  the  result  of  the  game  was  known. 

First  and  last  there  were  twenty-five  Har- 
vard men  in  the  membership  list  of  this  "club." 
One  of  them  was  Henry  M.  Suckley,  of  the 
class  of  1910.  Hailing  from  Rhinebeck,  N.  Y., 
Suckley  had  joined  the  American  Ambulance 
Field  Service  in  February,  1915,  and  by  good 
work  had  become  an  assistant  to  his  classmate, 
Levering  Hill,  when  in  July,  1915,  Hill  suc- 
ceeded Richard  Lawrence  as  the  commander  of 

161 


162     AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

Section  3.  By  his  coolness  and  courage  in  cany- 
ing  the  wounded  over  the  shell-swept  roads  in 
the  Vosges  he  had  won  his  Croix  de  Guerre, 
and  he  was  destined  to  receive,  on  the  eve  of 
his  death,  even  greater  honors. 

In  the  autumn  of  1916  he  returned  to  the 
United  States  for  the  purpose  of  recruiting  a 
new  ambulance  section.  He  succeeded  in  secur- 
ing from  his  friends  in  the  New  York  Stock  Ex- 
change sufficient  funds  to  purchase  and  equip 
twenty  motor-ambulances,  and  with  these  he 
returned  to  France.  Meanwhile  his  old  chief, 
Lovering  Hill,  had  been  sent  at  the  head  of 
Section  3  to  Saloniki  to  serve  with  the  French 
Army  in  the  Orient,  the  section  containing 
eleven  Harvard  men,  three  men  from  Yale  and 
Princeton  respectively,  and  one  each  from  the 
universities  of  Pennsylvania  and  Virginia. 

The  work  of  this  section  around  Saloniki 
gave  such  satisfaction  that  General  Sarrail 
asked  for  another;  and  the  cars  which  Suckley 
had  procured  and  which  were  unofficially  known 
as  the  New  York  Stock  Exchange  Unit  were 
formed  into  Section  10,  and  under  his  leader- 
ship were  sent  to  Saloniki. 


HENRY  SUCKLEY  KILLED  BY  A  BOMB     163 

In  the  following  March  [1917]  Suckley  was 
killed  at  a  camp  near  Saloniki  by  the  explosion 
of  a  bomb  dropped  by  a  German  aviator.  Two 
others  were  killed  and  several  were  wounded 
by  the  same  bomb.  Describing  the  occurrences 
following  the  explosion,  which  took  place  on  the 
18th,  Gordon  Ware,  a  college  mate  of  Suckley 's, 
wrote  in  part  as  follows,  his  letter  intended  for 
private  reading  only,  appearing  in  the  Harvard 
Alumni  Bulletin  of  May  24,  1917: 

W.  cranked  up  his  car  and  took  Henry, 
smiling  and  smoking,  to  K.  "If  I'm  going  to 
pass  out,  I'll  have  a  cigarette  first,"  he  said,  the 
calmest  of  the  lot.  The  lieutenant's  chauffeur, 
who  is  the  butt  of  every  one,  proved  himself  a 
real  hero  and  refused  aid  and  transportation 
until  Henry  had  been  attended  to.  At  K. 
everything  possible  was  done  for  him,  but  only 
his  strong  constitution  enabled  him  to  last  the 
night,  an  artery  having  been  severed.  He  suf- 
fered little  and  was  always  conscious,  not  realiz- 
ing until  the  end  that  he  was  going.  Bright 
and  cheerful,  even  the  doctor  broke  down  when 
he  went.  It  gives  an  idea  of  the  man's  charm 
that  he  could  so  grip  strangers,  and  it  is  difficult 
to  measure  our  regard  for  him  after  three 
months'  close  association.  As  a  section-leader 
he  worked  like  a  dog,  and  asked  nothing  of 
anyone  which  he  would  not  do  himself.  The 


164     AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

hardest  thing  is  that  he  must  go  before  the  sec- 
tion can  make  or  break  itself.  The  Legion  of 
Honor  was  wired  him. 

Suckley  was  buried  with  all  military  honors. 
Shortly  after,  oddly  enough,  the  same  German 
airship  which  had  dropped  the  bomb  that  killed 
Suckley  was  forced  by  fire  or  by  engine  trouble 
to  descend  on  the  same  French  camp  that  had 
been  bombarded,  the  two  Germans  surrendering. 
The  air-ship  was  capsized  in  landing  and  burned. 
Of  the  two  occupants,  Mr.  Ware  wrote: 

The  men  were  white  and  frightened,  uncer- 
tain as  to  their  reception.  As  their  French  was 
not  good  they  could  hardly  have  been  re-assured 
by  a  lieutenant's  threat  to  shoot  them — empha- 
sizing the  point  with  drawn  revolver — should 
their  denial  that  there  were  bombs  in  the  ma- 
chine prove  false.  The  officer  was  a  good-look- 
ing young  chap  with  a  keen,  American-like 
face.  His  non-com,  was  of  the  caricatured 
Prussian  type,  bull-necked,  bullet-headed  and 
brutal  in  appearance.  The  officer  had  three 
decorations,  including  the  inevitable  Iron  Cross. 
"  Le  moteur  est — est — en  panne"  he  said  hesitat- 
ingly, and  claimed  that  it  had  been  going 
badly  all  the  morning  and  at  length,  catching 
fir^,  had  forced  his  descent,  accidentally  unsuc- 
cessful. I  think  he  deliberately  capsized  it  so 
as  to  destroy  it. 


XXI 

A  PRINCETON  MAN'S  EXPERIENCES 

WHEN  the  war  broke  out  Clarence  V.  S. 
Mitchell,  of  New  York,  was  in  the  Har- 
vard Law  School,  having  been  graduated  from 
Princeton,  in  1913,  and  from  St.  Paul's  School, 
Concord,  four  years  earlier.  He  sailed  for  Eng- 
land on  the  Olympic  in  September,  1914,  to  join 
the  American  Ambulance  service  in  France. 
From  the  letters  that  he  sent  to  his  parents,  his 
father,  Clarence  Blair  Mitchell,  has  compiled  a 
small  volume  which  he  has  had  privately  printed 
under  the  title,  "With  a  Military  Ambulance 
in  France,  1914-15."  A  large  part  of  the  value 
of  this  intimate  personal  record  lies  in  the  fresh- 
ness and  spontaneity  of  these  letters,  informal 
in  character  and,  of  necessity,  unstudied  in 
form. 

Young  Mitchell  was  exceptionally  equipped 
for  his  job,  for  he  spoke  French  fluently  and 
preserved  his  American  sense  of  humor  as  a 
means  of  counterbalancing  the  tragic  sadness  of 

165 


166     AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

many  of  the  scenes  and  incidents  of  his  daily 
life.  Finding  on  reaching  London  that  he  must 
be  inoculated  against  typhoid,  he  notes: 

I   saw   Dr.    D after  lunch   and  he  put 

500,000,000  more  typhoid  germs  into  me  for 
the  sum  of  one  guinea,  which  is  not  very  much 
per  germ,  but  seems  quite  a  bit  for  the  labor 
involved. 

While  waiting  for  his  ambulance  Mitchell 
became  an  orderly  in  Dr.  Blake's  hospital  at 
Neuilly.  One  of  his  adventures  in  a  Paris  sub- 
way-station is  thus  described: 

I  was  sitting  next  to  a  woman  with  a  small 
baby.  All  of  a  sudden  she  let  out  a  yelp,  threw 
the  kid  to  me  and  ran  to  the  other  end  of  the 
platform,  where  she  fell  on  the  neck  of  a  sol- 
dier. I  did  not  know  if  I  was  to  become  an 
adopted  father  or  not,  but  I  could  not  drop  the 
kid  and  sat  there  very  much  fussed,  trying  to 
amuse  it.  By  evil  luck  a  crowd  ol  ouvrieres 
came  along  and  burst  into  shrieks  of  laughter. 
Their  remarks  were  considerably  more  witty  than 
polite !  By  the  time  the  mother  came  back  I 
was  the  centre  of  an  amused  crowd.  Now,  if 
I  see  any  babies  around,  I  don't  sit  down ! 

By  November  Mitchell  got  his  ambulance,  a 
big  six-cylindered  Packard,  and  was  assigned 


A  PRINCETON  MAN'S  EXPERIENCES     167 

to  a  section  of  the  Formation  Harjes,  with 
headquarters  at  the  Chateau  d'Ayencourt,  near 
Montdidier,  under  the  immediate  leadership  of 
Paul  Rainey,  the  big-game  hunter,  who  became 
his  roommate.  Four  of  the  party  were  Prince- 
ton men,  two  of  whom  were  doctors.  Their 
principal  work  was  the  transportation  of 
wounded  soldiers  from  the  railway-station  to 
the  military  hospital  of  Val  de  Grace.  Mitchell 
brought  a  serene  philosophy  to  bear  upon  his 
job.  "This  ought  to  be  a  very  healthy  life," 
he  notes;  "no  end  of  work,  and  no  rum  or  late 
hours."  He  did  not  escape  altogether,  how- 
ever. For  early  in  1915  he  wrote  that  while  he 
was  convalescent  from  an  attack  of  jaundice,  a 

Mrs.  H substituted  jonquils  for  the  roses 

which  she  found  in  his  room,  in  order  to  make 
the  color  scheme  in  harmony  with  his  com- 
plexion ! 

Not  infrequently  Mitchell  was  near  the  fir- 
ing-line. Under  a  November  (1914)  date  he 
wrote : 

Thursday  Night — I  am  writing  this  on  a 
board  laid  on  my  steering  wheel  while  I'm 
waiting  outside  the  station  for  orders.  I'm 


168     AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

stuck  here  till  12  p.  M.  It's  a  damp,  foggy 
night,  but  the  sight  of  the  few  lights  gives  a 
rather  Whistler-like  touch,  and  the  cannons 
are  booming  at  short  intervals.  They  worked 
us  for  fair  this  P.  M.  I  made  any  number  of 
trips  to  a  farm  behind  the  firing  line  and  to 
Wassy  and  Dannescourt,  two  villages,  and 
brought  in  40  wounded.  Our  cars  brought 
in  over  200.  Off  on  another  trip  now,  so  so- 
long. 

Back  again  from  a  trip  to  the  civil  hospital 
with  a  couple  of  wounded.  This  P.  M.  on  my 
last  trip  to  Wassy  when  it  was  almost  dark  I 
passed  a  battalion  of  artillery.  They  were 
coming  over  a  ridge  with  the  full  moon  rising 
behind  them,  and  it  was  a  most  gorgeous  sil- 
houette. I  also  saw  the  Germans  shelling  aero- 
planes. You'd  hear  a  boom  and  then  see  a 
puff  of  brown  smoke  burst  way  up  high,  but 
they  hit  nothing.  I  didn't  get  nearer  than  two 
miles  from  our  line,  but  every  little  bit  helps. 
Our  machines  are  the  envy  and  admiration  of 
every  French  doctor  who  sees  them.  They 
carry  6  couches,  and  the  stretchers  run  in  on 
pulleys,  which  is  a  new  idea  to  these  people. 

There  are  1,400  wounded  in  this  station— 
the  result  of  having  taken  the  village  of  Oncy 
and  having  it  retaken  by  the  Germans  this 
morning.  The  French  intend  making  another 
attack  to-night,  so  to-morrow  ought  to  be  a 
busy  day.  An  old  fellow  rode  in  beside  me  to- 
day who  had  been  in  Algiers  four  years  and  we 


A  PRINCETON  MAN'S  EXPERIENCES     169 

had  a  great  talk.  He  was  shot  lying  down,  the 
bullet  going  in  above  his  shoulder  and  stopping 
just  above  his  knee.  He  was  also  hit  by  a 
spent  bullet  on  his  Morocco  medal,  which 
pleased  him  no  end, — and  he  was  very  gay.  The 
station  beggars  description — stretchers  every- 
where and  smells  and  groans  rising  in  chorus. 
I've  just  been  through  giving  them  chocolate 
and  cigarettes  and  doing  any  little  thing  I 
could,  like  taking  letters,  etc.  They  seem  very 
grateful,  and  I  enjoy  doing  it  no  end. 

It  is  safe  to  say  that  it  was  Mitchell's  custom 
to  bring  something  besides  newspapers  with 
him  on  his  return  from  trips  to  Paris,  if  one 
may  judge  from  his  reception  at  the  hospital 
on  one  occasion: 

I  have  been  a  good  deal  in  Ward  3,  bringing 
the  men  papers,  etc.,  and  the  evening  I  came 
back  from  Paris  I  went  in  to  see  them  and  was 
quite  pleased  to  have  them  let  out  yells  of  de- 
light. In  fact  they  yelled  so  loud  that  the  doc- 
tors and  three  nurses  came  running  in  to  see  if 
a  lamp  had  upset,  and  I  felt  rather  foolish, 
though  it  was  nice  to  be  welcomed  back. 

Perhaps  the  most  effective  page  in  Mitchell's 
letters  is  the  one  in  which  he  gives  a  picture, 
full  of  color  and  ending  in  a  dramatic  climax,  of 


170    AMERICAN  AMBULANCES  IN  FRANCE 

a  midnight  mass  which  he  and  a  few  of  his  com- 
panions attended  on  Christmas  Eve  in  1914  in 
Montdidier: 

We  sat  around  in  the  smoking-room  till 

11.30  P.  M.,  when  I  took  Dr.  B ,  Miss  L , 

Miss  L ,  T and  myself  into  midnight 

mass  at  St.  Pierre.  I  think  it  was  the  most 
impressive  service  I've  ever  attended,  and  only 
those  who  have  seen  the  chapel  at  St.  Paul's 
on  "Last  Night"  can  begin  to  picture  it.  The 
church  is  an  old  fourteenth  century  one,  with 
fair  vaulting  and  very  massive  columns  and  a 
good  organ  with  an  echo  high  up  at  the  end  of 
the  centre  aisle. 

The  place  was  jammed,  and  I  stood  with 
my  aviator  friends  near  the  back.  It  must 
have  been  a  picturesque  sight  from  the  altar. 
The  chairs  crowded  with  women  and  then  the 
aviators,  some  in  the  new  light-blue  uniforms, 
others  in  bearskin  coats;  then  two  of  us  in  gray- 
green  alongside  and  the  dark  splash  of  the  two 
nurses'  cloaks  standing  out  against  the  red  of 
the  soldiers'  trousers  as  they  stood  behind  us  in 
a  crowd  ten  deep  the  whole  width  of  the  church. 
The  lights  on  the  columns  and  vaulting  were 
beautiful,  and  when  the  organ  came  in  to 
accompany  the  priest's  chanting  it  seemed 
almost  as  if  someone  were  picking  the  notes 
out  of  the  moss-grown  cracks  in  the  arched 
roof.  War  seemed  a  long  way  off,  but  when 
the  bells  rang  midnight  and  everything  was  as 


A  PRINCETON  MAN'S  EXPERIENCES     171 

silent  as  possible,  you  could  hear  sobbing  all 
around;  and  as  the  last  few  strokes  tolled,  three 
"  Err-roums ! "  from  the  120s  at  La  Boissiere 
came  as  clear  as  could  be,  and  you  woke  with 
a  start. 


PART  V 

RELIEF   WORK   IN   BELGIUM   AND   IN 
NORTHERN  FRANCE 


XXII 

HERBERT  HOOVER   AND   "ENGINEERING 
EFFICIENCY  " 

BEFORE  1915  the  name  of  Herbert  Hoover 
was  unknown  in  the  United  States  save 
to  a  few  mining  engineers  and  financial  men 
interested  in  mining  ventures,  and  save  also  to 
the  home  circle  in  the  little  village  of  West 
Branch,  Iowa,  where  he  was  born  in  1874. 
Educated  as  a  mining  engineer  at  Leland  Stan- 
ford University,  where  he  was  graduated  in 
1895,  he  passed  his  apprenticeship  days  in  the 
service  of  the  United  States  Geological  Survey 
in  Arkansas  and  in  the  Sierra  Nevada  Moun- 
tains, then  became  an  assistant  manager  of 
mines  in  New  Mexico  and  California,  and  finally 
acquired  a  large  and  varied  experience  in  man- 
aging mines  in  West  Australia  and  as  chief 
engineer  to  the  Chinese  Bureau  of  Mines, 
finally  reaching  London  in  1902.  This  was 
quick  work — to  go  from  college  to  a  partner- 
ship in  a  great  London  mining  house  in  seven 

175 


176  RELIEF  WORK  IN  BELGIUM 

years;  but  Hoover,  as  the  whole  world  has  since 
come  to  know,  was  an  exceptional  man.  He 
has  written  a  chapter  in  the  history  of  the 
Great  War  which  will  be  read  with  the  deepest 
interest  for  hundreds  of  years  to  come. 

It  is  no  part  of  the  task  of  the  present  writer 
to  describe  in  detail  the  work  of  the  Commis- 
sion for  Relief  in  Belgium  which  Mr.  Hoover 
organized  and  directed.  The  full  story  may  be 
read  in  Professor  Vernon  Kellogg's  "Fighting 
Starvation  in  Belgium,*'  and  in  his  "Headquar- 
ters Nights."  Originally  a  pacifist  and  a  hu- 
manitarian by  conviction,  Mr.  Kellogg  left 
Stanford  University,  where  he  was  Professor 
of  Entomology  when  the  war  started,  and  went 
abroad  to  do  what  he  could  to  help  relieve 
human  suffering.  He  soon  joined  his  friend  of 
many  years,  Herbert  Hoover,  in  the  Commission 
for  Relief  in  Belgium,  and,  except  for  a  brief 
period  when  he  was  obliged  to  resume  his  uni- 
versity duties,  he  remained  with  the  "C.  R.  B.," 
as  it  was  called,  until  the  Americans  left  Bel- 
gium. After  being  graduated  in  1889  at  the 
university  of  his  native  State  of  Kansas  and 
after  having  studied  at  Cornell,  Professor  Ke!- 


"ENGINEERING  EFFICIENCY"          177 

passed  several  years  in  further  study  in 
Leipsic  and  in  Paris.  His  consequent  com- 
mand of  the  German  tongue  made  him  espe- 
cially raluable  as  the  representative  of  the 
commission  at  the  German  headquarters  in 
Belgium,  and,  when  necessary,  at  the  Great 
Headquarters  of  the  General  Staff  of  the  Ger- 
man Annj. 

Onlj  the  briefest  survey  can  be  made  here  of 
the  problems  that  the  commission  had  to  solve 
and  of  the  means  that  were  adopted  to  solve 
them.  First,  however,  it  may  be  advanta- 
geous to  quote  a  paragraph  from  an  address 
which  Mr.  Hoover  delivered  before  the  New 
York  Chamber  of  Commerce  in  February,  1917, 
for  the  light  that  it  throws  upon  the  motives 
of  the  American  volunteers  who  gave  their  ser- 
vices to  this  great  cause: 

The  rights  or  wrongs  of  neither  of  these 
fierce  contentions  are  for  me  to  discuss.  It  is 
enough  for  an  American  that  here,  ground  be- 
tween millstones,  are  millions  of  helpless  people 
whom  America,  and  America  alone,  could  save. 
Not  only  was  it  our  duty,  but  it  was  our  privi- 
lege. It  was  our  privilege  to  forfend  infinite 
suffering  from  these  millions  of  people,  to  save 


178  RELIEF  WORK  IN  BELGIUM 

millions  of  lives,  and  it  was  our  opportunity  to 
demonstrate  America's  ability  to  do  it  in  a 
large,  generous  and  efficient  way,  befitting  our 
country;  but  far  beyond  this,  it  was  our  oppor- 
tunity to  demonstrate  that  great  strain  of 
humanity  and  idealism  which  built  up  and  in 
every  essential  crisis  saved  our  Republic.  We 
could  throw  a  gleam  of  sunshine  into  the  swel- 
tering dungeon  into  which  Europe  has  been 
plunged. 

The  three  tenets  of  the  organization  were: 
first,  volunteer  service;  second,  high  ideals,  and 
third,  decentralization.  The  difficulties  involved 
in  the  problems  of  the  purchase,  transporta- 
tion and  distribution  of  huge  food-supplies  to 
the  nine  and  a  half  million  hungry  people  of 
Belgium  and  northern  France  are  thus  outlined 
by  Professor  Kellogg  in  his  "Fighting  Starva- 
tion in  Belgium": 

Rice  from  Rangoon,  corn  from  Argentina, 
beans  from  Manchuria,  wheat  and  meat  and 
fats  from  America;  and  all,  with  the  other 
things  of  the  regular  programme,  such  as  sugar, 
condensed  milk,  coffee  and  cocoa,  salt,  salad 
oil,  yeast,  dried  fish,  etc.,  in  great  quantities,  to 
be  brought  across  wide  oceans,  through  the 
dangerous  mine-strewn  Channel,  and  landed 
safely  and  regularly  in  Rotterdam,  to  be  there 


"ENGINEERING  EFFICIENCY"  179 

speedily  transferred  from  ocean  vessels  into 
canal  boats  and  urged  on  into  Belgium  and 
northern  France,  and  from  these  taken  again 
by  railroad  cars  and  horse-drawn  carts  to  the 
communal  warehouses  and  soup  kitchens;  and 
always  and  ever,  through  all  the  months,  to 
get  there  in  time — these  were  the  buying  and 
transporting  problems  of  the  Commission.  One 
hundred  thousand  tons  a  month  of  food-stuffs 
from  the  world  over,  in  great  shiploads  to  Rot- 
terdam; one  hundred  thousand  tons  a  month 
thence  in  ever  more  and  more  divided  quanti- 
ties to  the  province  and  district  storehouses,  to 
the  regional  storehouses  and  mills,  to  the  com- 
munal centres,  and  finally  to  the  mouths  of  the 
people.  And  all  to  be  done  economically, 
speedily,  and  regularly;  to  be  done,  that  is,  with 
"engineering  efficiency. " 

As  all  of  these  vast  supplies  of  food  were 
procured,  controlled  and  distributed  by  the 
neutral  American  members  of  the  commission, 
the  people  of  Belgium  not  unnaturally  looked 
upon  them  as  the  gift  of  the  American  people  or 
of  the  American  Government.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  the  financial  help  which  America  gave  the 
commission  was  so  comparatively  insignificant 
as  almost  to  be  negligible.  Their  own  govern- 
ments were  incurring  heavy  debts  in  order  to 
feed  the  people  of  Belgium  and  northern  France. 


.80  RELIEF  WORK  IN  BELGIUM 

Up  to  June  1, 1917,  the  commission  had  received 
from  all  sources  $297,000,000  to  carry  on  this 
work— $89,500,000  from  the  British  Govern- 
ment and  $66,000,000  from  the  French  Gov- 
ernment in  the  form  of  loans  to  the  Belgian 
Government  for  relief  work  in  Belgium;  $108,- 
000,000  from  the  French  Government  for  relief 
work  in  the  German-occupied  provinces  of 
northern  France;  $17,000,000  and  $11,500,000 
respectively  as  charity  from  private  sources  in 
Great  Britain  and  in  the  United  States;  and 
finally  $5,000,000  in  profits  in  its  commercial 
transactions,  which  were  transferred  to  the 
commission's  benevolent  account.  In  June, 
1917,  the  United  States  Government  undertook 
to  finance  the  work  of  the  commission  in  the 
form  of  periodic  loans  to  the  French  and  Bel- 
gian Governments. 


XXIII 
AMERICAN  VOLUNTEERS  IN  FIELD  SERVICE 

A?  first  Mr.  Hoover  turned  naturally  for 
executive  assistants  in  his  work  to  his 
American  friends  and  associates  in  the  engineer- 
ing profession  in  London,  Brussels  and  other 
near-by  centres.  He  did  not,  however,  confine 
himself  to  men  of  any  one  class.  In  time  he 
secured  the  services,  in  Professor  Kellogg's 
words,  of  "half  a  dozen  college  professors,  a 
lawyer  of  large  practice,  two  clergymen  of  prac- 
tical turn  of  mind,  a  well-known  explorer  and 
sportsman,  a  dietetic  expert,  an  architect  of 
high  repute,  a  magazine  editor,  a  famous  for- 
ester, a  stock  broker,  a  consul,  an  expert  in 
children's  diseases;  altogether  a  wholesome  va- 
riety!" Professor  Kellogg  himself  was  one  of 
this  group,  several  of  whom  also  worked  with 
the  younger  men  as  provincial  delegates.  The 
list  of  the  American  volunteers,  mostly  young 
men,  who  came  in  more  or  less  direct  contact 
with  the  Belgian  and  French  people  in  this 

181 


182  RELIEF  WORK  IN  BELGIUM 

relief  work,  successive  resident  directors,  assis- 
tant directors,  head  delegates  and  assistants, 
numbers  in  all  hardly  a  hundred  and  fifty,  no 
more  than  forty  of  whom  were  ever  on  duty  at 
one  time  in  both  Belgium  and  northern  France. 
Of  these  men,  "representatives  of  an  Ameri- 
can type,"  Professor  Kellogg,  who  as  director  at 
Brussels  knew  them  well,  says,  in  his  "Fighting 
Starvation  in  Belgium": 

They  came  from  forty-five  different  Ameri- 
can colleges  and  universities;  more  from  Har- 
vard than  any  other  one.  Twenty  of  them 
had  been  selected  by  their  colleges  and  their 
States  to  be  Rhodes  Scholars  in  Oxford  Univer- 
sity. These  twenty  had  been  thus  already 
selected  on  a  basis  of  scholarship,  youthful 
energy,  general  capacity,  and  good-fellowship. 
They  had  not,  however,  been  selected  on  a 
basis  of  experience  in  business  or — least  of  all 
— relief  work.  And  the  rest  of  the  one  hundred 
and  fifty  were  selected  by  us  on  about  the  same 
general  grounds,  adding  the  more  special  one 
of  a  usable,  or  buddingly  usable,  knowledge  of 
the  French  language.  Several  could  read  Ger- 
man, a  few  speak  it.  That  was  also  useful. 
But  the  Commission  asked  primarily  for  in- 
telligence, character,  youthful  vigor,  and  en- 
thusiasm, rather  than  specific  attainments  or 
experience. 


AMERICANS  IN  FIELD  SERVICE        183 

In  his  "Journal  from  Our  Legation  in  Bel- 
gium," Hugh  Gibson,  the  First  Secretary  of  the 
Legation,  under  date  of  December  20,  1914,  has 
this  to  say  of  these  young  volunteers: 

The  first  group  of  Americans  to  work  on  the 
relief  came  into  Belgium  this  month.  They 
are,  for  the  most  part,  Rhodes  scholars  who 
were  at  Oxford  and  responded  instantly  to 
Hoover's  appeal.  They  are  a  picked  crew,  and 
have  gone  into  the  work  with  enthusiasm. 
And  it  takes  a  lot  of  enthusiasm  to  get  through 
the  sort  of  pioneer  work  they  have  to  do. 
They  have  none  of  the  thrill  of  the  fellows  who 
have  gone  into  the  flying  corps  or  the  ambu- 
lance service.  They  have  ahead  of  them  a 
long  winter  of  motoring  about  the  country  in 
all  sorts  of  weather,  wrangling  with  millers  and 
stevedores,  checking  cargoes  and  costs,  keeping 
the  peace  between  the  Belgians  and  the  Ger- 
man authorities,  observing  the  rules  of  the 
game  toward  everybody  concerned,  and  above 
all  keeping  neutral.  It  is  no  small  undertaking 
for  a  lot  of  youngsters  hardly  out  of  college, 
but  so  far  they  have  done  splendidly. 

Of  the  work  that  these  young  Americans  did 
Professor  Kellogg  speaks  in  the  highest  terms: 

Its  members  have  crossed  the  channel  in  con- 
voyed English  despatch  boats,  passed  through 
closed  frontiers,  scurried  about  in  swift  motors 


184  RELIEF  WORK  IN  BELGIUM 

over  all  the  occupied  territory  in  which  few 
other  cars  than  German  military  ones  ever 
moved,  visited  villages  at  the  front  under  shell 
fire,  lived  at  the  very  Great  Headquarters  of  all 
the  German  armies  of  the  West,  been  trusted 
on  their  honor  to  do  a  thousand  and  one  things 
and  be  in  a  thousand  and  one  places  prohibited 
to  all  other  civilians,  and  have  lived  up  to  the 
trust.  They  have  suffered  from  the  mistakes 
of  uninformed  or  stupid  soldiers,  and  spent 
nights  in  jail;  they  have  taken  chances  under 
bombing  airmen,  and  been  falsely  but  danger- 
ously accused  as  spies;  but  despite  obstacles 
and  delays  and  danger  they  have  carried  the 
little  triangular  red-lettered  white  C.  R.  B. 
flag  to  every  town  and  hamlet  in  the  imprisoned 
land,  and  have  gulped  and  passed  on  wet-eyed 
as  the  people  by  the  roads  uncovered  to  the 
little  flag,  with  all  its  significance  of  material 
and  spiritual  encouragement.  Under  this  flag 
they  have  been  protector  and  protected  at 
once. 

The  conditions  in  the  German-occupied  por- 
tions of  northern  France  differed  greatly,  of 
course,  from  those  in  Belgium,  but  the  conduct 
of  the  Americans  was  equally  to  their  credit. 
On  this  point  Professor  Kellogg  says: 

It  is  gratifying  to  be  able  to  say  that  in  the 
whole  history  of  the  stay  of  the  Commission's 
men  in  northern  France,  during  which  at  least 


AMERICANS  IX  FIELD  SERVICE         185 

thirty  different  men  were  used,  no  single  com- 
plaint of  dishonorable  or  unneutral  conduct  on 
their  part  was  made  by  the  German  military 
authorities.  Some  of  the  escort  officers  occa- 
sionally had  complaints  to  make  of  the  imma- 
turity of  some  of  the  Americans,  or  of  their 
manner,  not  sufficiently  stiff  or  precise  properly 
to  impress  other  German  officers  dining  with 
them,  and  one  complained  rather  bitterly — I 
remember,  to  my  amazement — that  his  Ameri- 
can persisted  in  wearing  a  ragged  overcoat ! 
But  despite  the  strain  of  sympathy  and  anger 
imposed  on  them  by  being  compelled  to  see 
the  sufferings  of  the  helpless  French  under  the 
rigors  of  military  control,  and,  too  often,  mili- 
tary brutality,  our  men  held  their  strong  feel- 
ings in  check.  They  were  not  only  bound  in 
honor,  but  they  knew  that  their  mission  could 
be  accomplished  only  by  the  maintenance  of  a 
correct  behavior;  they  could  help  the  imprisoned 
people  much  more  by  limiting  themselves  to 
the  all-important  work  of  the  ravitaillement  than 
by  giving  way  to  any  temptation,  however 
strong,  of  unneutral  acts  or  speech. 


XXIV 

AMERICAN  IDEALISM  AND  HUMOR 

PROFESSOR  KELLOGG  observes  that  most 
of  the  young  Americans  in  Belgian  relief 
work  were  fortunate  in  having  two  things  that 
were  of  the  greatest  value  to  them:  "a  support- 
ing idealism  and  a  saving  sense  of  humor." 
In  illustration  of  the  unexpected  revelation  in  a 
single  German  of  this  latter  trait,  he  tells,  in 
his  "Fighting  Starvation  in  Belgium,"  a  story 
of  Edward  D.  Curtis,  of  Chestnut  Hill,  Boston. 
Curtis,  a  graduate  of  Harvard,  was  at  Cam- 
bridge University,  England,  when  the  war  be- 
gan. He  immediately  joined  Mr.  Hoover's 
London  committee  to  help  stranded  Americans 
get  home,  and  followed  his  chief  to  Belgium, 
remaining  in  the  service  of  the  commission  until 
the  end,  in  April,  1917.  Of  him  Professor  Kel- 
logg says: 

Curtis,  the  first  of  our  Brussels-Holland 
couriers,  had  to  have  these  qualities  to  stand 
his  seventeen  arrests  by  German  sentries,  and 

186 


Warren*  his  three  days  in  a  military  prison  at 
Antwerp,  and  yet  keep  unconcernedly  on  with 
their  work.  Curtis's  sense  of  humor  was  for- 
tunately well  matched  by  a  German's — a  single 
German's — when  the  young  American,  a  little 
annoyed  by  an  unusual  number  of  stoppings  on 
the  road  one  day,  handed  his  pass  to  the  tenth 
man  who  demanded  it,  with  a  swift,  highly  un- 
complimentary personal  allusion  to  his  tor- 
mentor, in  pure  Americanese.  The  sentry 
handed  it  back  with  a  dry,  "Much  obliged,  the 
same  to  you."  He  was  probably  a  formerly-of- 
Chicago  reservist  who  knew  the  argot. 

A  Yale  man,  Scott  Hurtt  Paradise,  a  Rhodes 
scholar  at  Oxford,  experienced  a  similar  surprise 
once  which  he  described  in  the  Yale  Alumni 
Weekly: 

It  is  only  fair  to  say  that  in  Belgium  one 
hears  much  less  about  atrocities  than  one  does 
in  the  United  States  or  England.  The  old 
Landsturmers,  with  their  dingy  uniforms,  their 
ilong  beards  and  their  gentle  eyes,  seem  sadly 
out  of  place  guarding  the  railroad  tracks  in  the 
cold  rainy  nights.  One  of  them  once  remarked 
to  us,  to  our  great  astonishment,  as  he  read  our 
passes,  "Haven't  you  any  English  or  American 
newspapers?  I'm  so  damned  lonely  I  don't 
know  what  to  do,"  and  this  in  perfect  Yankee. 

*  Robert  H.  Warren,  an  American  Rhodes  scholar  at  Oxford,  who  dka 
at  Bordeaux  in  November,  1916. 


188  RELIEF  WORK  IN  BELGIUM 

In  the  same  communication  Paradise  called 
attention  to  the  curious  coincidence  that  Horace 
Fletcher,  the  apostle  of  mastication,  should 
have  been  in  Brussels  when  the  colossal  problem 
of  feeding  the  whole  Belgian  people  was  being 
solved : 

In  fact,  Horace  Fletcher,  the  great  advocate 
of  mastication,  a  merry,  rosy,  little  old  gentle- 
man comfortably  ensconced  in  Brussels,  attrib- 
utes the  unusually  good  health  which  prevails 
in  Belgium  this  winter  [1914-15]  to  the  neces- 
sity for  sleeping  much,  eating  little  and  chew- 
ing that  little  very  much,  and  is  quite  jubilant 
over  this  conclusive  vindication  of  his  theories. 

In  the  list  at  the  end  of  Professor  Kellogg's 
book  Mr.  Fletcher  is  recorded  as  having  been 
in  the  service  of  the  commission  from  February 
to  November,  1915. 

Incessantly  harassed  and  annoyed  as  they 
were  by  the  number  and  variety  of  regulations 
which  the  Germans  imposed  upon  them,  the 
Americans  kept  their  tempers  and  even  man- 
aged to  see  the  humorous  side  of  some  of  the 
situations.  Thus,  according  to  Professor  Kel- 
logg, the  delegate  at  Liege,  being  in  a  facetious 


AMERICAN  IDEALISM  AND  HUMOR     189 

mood,  is  said  to  have  written  his  confrere  at 
Namur  as  follows: 

DEAR  DELEGATE: 

I  started  three  canal  boats  last  week  for 
Namur.  I  thought  it  safer  to  send  three  in 
order  that  one  should  finally  reach  you.  The 
"Attends  Je  Viens"  has  already  been  stopped— 
the  towing  horse  had  no  passport.  I  hear  that 
the  "Marchons  Ton jours"  is  also  not  likely  to 
get  through,  as  the  skipper's  wife  has  given  birth 
to  a  baby  en  voyage  whose  photo  is,  naturally, 
not  on  the  passport.  Betting  is  strong,  how- 
ever, on  the  "Laisse-moi  Tranquille."  Be  sure 
to  take  up  the  bottom  planks  when  she  arrives, 
as  I  understand  Rotterdam  thinks  she  may  be 
carrying  contraband. 

At  first  the  Germans  were  utterly  unable  to 
understand  the  humanitarian  idealism  which 
had  prompted  the  Americans  to  undertake  so 
huge  a  task  as  the  feeding  of  the  destitute  Bel- 
gians. Professor  Kellogg  narrates  this  incident 
in  illustration  of  their  sceptical  attitude: 

In  an  interview  Mr.  Hoover  had  with  one 
of  the  most  important  officers  of  von  Bissing's 
staff,  this  official  broke  off  the  general  discussion 
to  say  abruptly: 

"Now,  we  are  all  just  human  here,  and  I 
want  to  ask  you,  as  man  to  man,  one  question: 


190  RELIEF  WORK  IN  BELGIUM 

What  do  you  Americans  get  out  of  this  busi- 
ness?    Why  are  you  doing  it?" 

"I  tried  to  explain  first  with  evenness  of 
temper  and  then  more  emphatically,"  writes 
Mr.  Hoover  in  his  memorandum  of  the  con- 
versation, "that  the  whole  thing  was  simply  a 
humane  effort;  and  that  not  only  did  none  of 
us  get  anything  out  of  it,  but  that  most  of  us 
lost  something  by  it.  But  I  found  it  too  diffi- 
cult to  be  emphatic  enough  about  this  to  make 
any  real  impression  on  him." 

Educated  for  years  in  a  school  which  taught 
that  in  time  of  war  any  act  however  treacherous 
or  dishonorable  was  justifiable,  if  it  was  com- 
mitted in  the  interest  of  the  State,  the  Germans 
were  utterly  unable  to  believe  that  the  Ameri- 
can delegates  would  not  act  as  spies  or  as  car- 
riers of  contraband,  if  the  opportunity  pre- 
sented itself.  This  characteristically  Teutonic 
attitude  of  mind  was  met  by  a  frank  honesty 
that  was  baffling  though  by  no  means  convinc- 
ing. Thus  Hugh  Gibson,  in  speaking  in  his 
"Journal"  of  Edward  Curtis  in  his  relations 
with  the  Germans,  says: 

He  exudes  silence  and  discretion,  but  does 
not  miss  any  fun  or  any  chance  to  advance  the 
general  cause.  Of  course  it  is  taking  the  Ger- 


AMERICAN  IDEALISM  AND  HUMOR     191 

mans  some  time  to  learn  his  system.  He  is  ab- 
solutely square  with  them,  and  gets  a  certain 
amount  of  fun  out  of  their  determined  efforts 
to  find  some  sort  of  contraband  on  him.  They 
can  hardly  conceive  of  his  being  honest,  and 
think  his  seeming  frankness  is  merely  an  un- 
usually clever  dodge  to  cover  up  his  transgres- 
sions. 


XXV 

NARRATIVES  OF  PRINCETON  MEN 

FROM  the  start  Princeton  men  took  a  promi- 
nent part  in  the  work  of  the  Commission 
for  Relief  in  Belgium,  and  the  narratives  of 
their  experiences  and  observations  will  be  ma- 
terial of  interest  to  the  historian  of  the  future. 
Early  in  1916  the  Princeton  Alumni  Weekly 
printed  a  lively  account,  received  through  Dean 
Howard  McClenahan,  who  had  been  in  Belgium, 
of  some  of  the  experiences  of  three  young  Prince- 
ton graduates  who  had  been  engaged  in  the 
field-work  of  the  commission.  They  were  Gil- 
christ  B.  Stockton,  1914,  William  H.  Tuck, 
1912,  and  Richard  R.  Lytle,  Jr.,  1913,  Lytle 
and  Stockton  having  been  among  the  Rhodes 
scholars  at  Oxford  who  dropped  their  work  in 
response  to  Mr.  Hoover's  call  for  American 
volunteers.  Selections  *rom  this  communica- 
tion follow: 

Stockton    was    Ed.     Curtis's     successor     as 
courier.     That  means  he  raced  back  and  forth 

192 


NARRATIVES  OF  PRINCETON  MEN      193 

from  Brussels  to  Bergen-op-Zoom  carrying  the 
mail  and  confidential  messages.  His  "G.  G. 
pass"  was  an  extraordinary  monstrosity  con- 
ceived and  executed  by  the  Germans,  and  worn 
in  a  celluloid  case  about  his  neck.  The  exact 
dimensions  of  the  "G.  G.  pass"  I  do  not  know, 
but  it  looked  about  a  yard  square.  It  bore  his 
photograph  in  a  soft  shirt  and  was  signed  per- 
sonally by  Governor-General  von  Bissing.  One 
adventure  of  Stockton's  which  I  remember  was 
his  finding  a  German  soldier,  on  the  Putte 
frontier,  who  came  from  Jacksonville,  Fla.,  [Mr. 
Stockton's  home]  and  he  spoke  the  same  kind 
of  English  that  Stockton  speaks.  From  the 
position  of  Mercury  to  the  Commission  he  was 
promoted  to  the  Antwerp  staff,  where  I  was  his 
chief. 

The  day  he  arrived  I  sent  him  out  to  take 
the  inventory  of  all  of  the  regional  warehouses 
and  mills  in  the  province.  Stockton  can  speak 
almost  no  French,  but  by  the  sign  language 
and  by  use  of  certain  well  conned  phrases  he 
managed  to  bring  in  a  perfect  report  by  eve- 
ning. He  evolved  a  system  of  questionnaires, 
and  very  methodically  and  easily  kept  track  of 
the  communes  in  his  charge.  His  brief  describ- 
ing the  method  for  using  these  questionnaires 
went  to  all  the  provincial  delegates  in  Belgium 
as  a  model  for  their  work. 

After  two  months'  service  in  Antwerp — 
from  August  1st  to  the  last  week  in  September 
[1915] — he  was  transferred  to  St.  Quentin  in  the 
North  of  France,  where  his  daily  life  is  carefully 


194  RELIEF  WORK  IN  BELGIUM 

supervised  by  a  German  official  whom  we  call 
a  nurse,  and  where  his  professional  life  is  closely 
looked  after  by  a  whole  staff  of  army  people. 
He  works  there  with  a  French  committee  in- 
stead of  with  Belgians,  but  every  conversation, 
every  telegram,  every  letter  and  every  note 
book  is  carefully  censored. 

Tuck  had  just  arrived  a  short  time  before  I 
left.  Everyone  was  very  much  impressed  with 
his  maturity  and  his  familiarity  with  the  French 
language.  He  was  sent  to  Mons  in  the  province 
of  Hainault  to  take  charge  of  that  large  and 
important  province,  and  we  all  feel  sure  that  he 
will  make  good. 

Before  Tuck  was  sent  to  Mons,  however, 
he  was  "rushed"  by  about  every  province  in 
Belgium.  It  was  really  amusing  to  see  how  we 
fell  over  each  other  in  our  frantic  attempts  to 
get  Tuck,  and  how  like  a  freshman  being  rushed 
for  a  college  fraternity  he  proved  to  be. 

Lytle  plunged  headlong  into  the  work  of  the 
Commission  in  the  province  of  Luxemburg. 
Immediately  after  the  veteran  delegate  Welling- 
ton had  gone  back  to  Oxford  he  had  a  hard 
time.  Worst  of  all  he  got  finally  into  an  auto- 
mobile accident,  in  which  his  car  smashed  a 
car  belonging  to  the  Kreischef  of  one  of  the 
principal  regions  of  Luxemburg.  Lytle's  letter 
to  the  Governor  of  the  province  of  Luxemburg 
was  not  calculated  to  smooth  the  feelings  of  the 
Governor,  and  the  Governor  wrote  back  stating 
that  Mr.  Lytle's  letter  and  his  bearing  at  the 
time  of  the  examination  and  detention  were 


NARRATIVES  OF  PRINCETON   MEN      195 

such  that  he,  the  Governor,  felt  called  upon  to 
"proceed  against  him  for  insult "  —unless  Lytle 
personally  apologize.  Lytle  preferred  to  leave 
the  country  and  so  the  matter  rested. 

For  three  months,  from  January  until  the 
end  of  March,  1917,  another  Princeton  man, 
Arthur  Bartlett  Maurice,  formerly  editor  of 
The  Bookman,  was  in  the  service  of  the  com- 
mission in  Belgium  and  northern  France.  Mr. 
Maurice  contributed  to  several  issues  of  the 
Princeton  Alumni  Weekly,  in  the  following  May 
and  June,  a  detailed  narrative  of  his  experiences 
and  those  of  the  men  with  whom  he  was  asso- 
ciated during  this  period.  This  paragraph  de- 
scribes how  he  and  his  companions  were  housed 
in  Brussels: 

Some  of  the  men  of  the  C.  R.  B.  stayed  in 
pensions.  But  most  of  us  lived  in  houses  which 
had  been  placed  at  the  disposal  of  the  Commis- 
sion by  the  owners  for  the  double  motive  of 
appreciation  of  the  work  that  was  being  done 
and  in  order  to  keep  them  from  being  occupied 
by  the  "Boches."  It  was  at  No.  126  Avenue 
Louise,  a  broad  thoroughfare  Bned  by  some  of 
the  city's  finest  residences  and  running  from 
the  circle  of  Boulevards  to  the  Bois  de  la 
Cambre,  that  I  went  to  live.  The  owner  of  the 


196  RELIEF  WORK  IN  BELGIUM 

house  had  been  lucky  enough  to  cross  into 
France  before  the  occupation  and  was  living  in 
Paris.  In  the  house,  which  had  been  left  in 
charge  of  two  servants,  eight  of  us,*  Leach, 
Maverick,  Wickes,  Kittredge,  Arrowsmith,  Cur- 
tis, Sperry  and  I,  had  some  sort  of  headquar- 
ters. It  was  seldom  that  more  than  four  or 
five  appeared  at  the  breakfast  table.  Maverick 
was  a  North  of  France  man.  Wickes  spent  the 
greater  part  of  the  week  in  Namur.  Sperry 
usually  had  an  engagement  elsewhere.  But  no 
matter  what  the  number  present,  here  was  no 
chance  to  complain  of  the  monotony  of  exist- 
ence. "The  life  of  an  American  delegate  is  a 
hard  life,"  Maverick  one  day  said  whimsically. 
"Here  we  are  forced  to  live  in  a  place  quite  as 
humble  as  the  average  house  that  you  see  on 
Fifth  Avenue  overlooking  Central  Park.  I  am 
reduced  to  the  humiliation  of  riding  about  in  an 
Overland  car  with  a  chauffeur  only  in  half 
livery.  To-night  I  shall  probably  be  obliged 
to  dine  at  the  Taverne  Roy  ale."  But  in  a  way 
Maverick's  flippancy  was  designed  to  cheer  us 
up.  When  the  words  were  spoken  the  ther- 
mometer at  the  side  of  the  mantelpiece  regis- 
tered 8°  above  zero  Fahrenheit.  It  was  the 
bitterest  winter  in  recent  history  and  coal  was 
not  to  be  had. 

*  Dr.  Charles  N.  Leach,  of  San  Francisco;  Robert  V.  Maverick,  of 
San  Antonio,  Tex.;  Francis  C.  Wickes,  of  Rochester,  N.  Y.;  Tracy  B. 
Kittredge,  of  Berkeley,  Cal.;  Robert  Arrowsmith,  of  Orange,  N.  J.; 
Edward  D.  Curtis,  of  Chestnut  Hill,  Boston,  and  William  H.  Sperry,  of 
Redwood  City,  Cal.  Of  this  group  of  eight,  seven  were  college  men, 
there  being  two  representatives  of  Princeton  and  one  each  of  Stanford, 
California,  Williams.  Columbia,  and  Harvard. 


NARRATIVES  OF  PRINCETON  MEN      197 

Of  the  daily  life  of  the  delegates  Mr.  Maurice 
wrote: 

In  Belgium  last  winter  there  were  about 
thirty  men,  who  were  C.  R.  B.  delegates  in  the 
strict  sense  of  the  term.  A  delegate  gave  his 
services.  His  transportation  from  the  United 
States  to  Belgium  was  provided,  and  he  was 
allowed  a  certain  daily  sum  to  cover  the  actual 
expenses  of  habitation  and  food.  First  among 
the  delegates  were  the  director,  Warren  Greg- 
ory, and  the  assistant  director,  Prentiss  Gray. 
Both  Californians.  I  am  not  going  to  tell  what 
I  think  of  them,  because  it  would  sound  like 
fulsome  flattery  of  Mr.  Hoover,  who  selected 
them.  Under  their  direction  the  delegates  were 
assigned  and  shifted.  There  were  the  North  of 
France  men.  A  North  of  France  man  was 
sent  to  Lille,  or  Sain t-Quen tin,  or  Valenciennes, 
or  Charleville,  or  Longwy.  Day  and  night  he 
was  in  the  company  of  a  German  officer.  The 
two  had  desks  in  the  same  office  and  occupied 
adjoining  bedrooms.  Somehow  or  other  the 
officer  always  got  the  best  desk  and  the  best 
bedroom.  They  breakfasted,  lunched,  dined 
together.  They  sat  side  by  side  in  the  back 
seat  of  the  motor  car.  If  the  officer  wished  to 
hold  nightly  revel  in  some  cafe,  he  had  to  per- 
suade the  delegate  to  accompany  him.  The 
American  was  supposed  to  hold  no  communica 
tion  with  any  unit  of  the  civil  population  save 
in  the  presence  of  his  officer.  It  was  a  Siamese 
twins  kind  of  existence. 


198  RELIEF  WORK  IN  BELGIUM 

The  German  formula  for  the  creation  and 
maintenance  of  a  great  nation  ruled  from  the 
top,  "organization  and  obedience,"  could  not, 
of  course,  be  made  to  fit  a  democracy  like 
America.  How  this  German  point  of  view  was 
impressed  upon  the  American  delegates  was 
illustrated  by  an  incident  which  Mr.  Maurice 
described: 

But  there  are  certain  memories  which  we  all 
of  us  took  away,  no  matter  how  slight  and 
short-lived  was  the  acquaintance.  We  recall, 
save  in  one  or  two  cases,  an  artificial  politeness, 
an  attempt  at  bonhommie  which  hardly  con- 
cealed the  sneer.  "What  is  German  militarism ?  " 
I  will  tell  you.  "It  is  order,  discipline,  obedi- 
ence." That  is  always  and  ever  the  refrain. 
That  covers  all,  explains  all,  justifies  all.  To 
them  these  virtues  exist  nowhere  else  in  the 
world.  We,  in  particular,  are  barbarians. 
There  had  been  some  slight  infraction  of  one 
of  the  ninety  and  nine  thousand  rules  that 
govern  life  in  Belgium  by  a  member  of  the 
C.  R.  B.  and  at  the  headquarters  in  the  Place 
Roy  ale  Major  B.  was  storming  at  Sperry  of 
California.  Sperry  was  not  the  offender,  but 
as  he  was  the  passport  man,  official  abuse  usu- 
ally descended  upon  his  head.  But  a  sense  of 
humor  had  Sperry,  and  he  bore  it  all  stoically. 
"You  come  from  a  country  and  a  wild  western 
state  where  you  have  no  laws,"  so  ran  the  in- 


NARRATIVES  OF  PRINCETON  MEN      199 

dictment.  "You  don't  understand  what  laws 
are  or  what  they  are  made  for.  Don't  you 
know  there  is  a  war?"  "It  seems  to  me,"  re- 
plied Sperry  softly,  "that  I  have  heard  of  it." 
"Heard  of  it!"  Major  B.  exploded.  "I  think 
we  have  heard  of  it.  We  have  lost  a  million 
men." 

Mr.  Maurice  was  in  the  first  group  of  seven 
Americans  connected  with  the  commission  who- 
left  Brussels  on  March  29,  1917;  the  othei 
Americans  followed  a  few  days  later.  The 
roundabout  journey  from  Brussels  to  Paris 
along  the  Rhine  and  through  Switzerland  con- 
sumed six  nights  and  five  days. 


XXVI 

EFFECT   ON   THE   AMERICANS   OF   GERMAN 
METHODS 

/^RIGINALLY,  as  we  have  seen,  a  pacifist, 
V— /  with  humanitarian  impulses,  Professor 
Kellogg  joined  Mr.  Hoover's  forces  in  Belgium 
with  an  open,  unprejudiced  mind.  His  intimate 
contact  with  the  Germans  as  the  conquerors  of 
Belgium,  and  his  observations  of  their  attitude 
of  mind  and  of  their  methods  as  rulers,  turned 
him  from  a  pacifist  into  a  would-be  belligerent. 
Of  the  effect  upon  the  active  members  of  the 
commission  as  a  whole  who  came  in  constant 
contact  with  the  wheels  and  cogs,  big  and  little, 
of  the  German  war-machine,  he  says,  in  his 
* '  Headquarters  Nights  " : 

The  experience  of  our  Relief  Commission 
with  this  machine  has  been  wearing.  It  has 
also  been  illuminating.  For  it  has  resulted  in 
the  conversion  of  an  idealistic  group  of  young 
Americans  of  open  mind  and  fairly  neutral 
original  attitude  into  a  band  of  convinced  men, 
most  of  whom,  since  their  forced  retirement 

200 


EFFECT  OF  GERMAN  METHODS        201 

from  Belgium,  have  ranged  themselves  among 
four  armies  devoted  to  the  annihilation  of  that 
machine  and  to  the  rescue  and  restoration  of 
that  one  of  the  victims,  the  sight  of  whose 
mangling  and  suffering  brought  unshed  tears 
to  the  eyes  and  silent  curses  to  the  lips  of  those 
Americans  so  often  during  the  long  two  and  a 
hah*  years  of  the  relief  work. 

We  were  not  haters  of  Germany  when  we 
went  to  Belgium.  We  have  simply,  by  ines- 
capable sights  and  sounds  and  knowledge  forced 
on  us,  been  made  into  what  we  have  become. 

The  greatest  single  incident  in  bringing  about 
this  change  of  mind  was  the  action  of  "the 
highest  military  authority  " — not  Von  Bissing's 
Belgium  government,  Professor  Kellogg  says — 
in  deporting  something  more  than  a  hundred 
thousand  able-bodied  Belgian  men  to  Ger- 
many. The  world,  he  says,  needs  the  whole 
story.  He  goes  on: 

Unfortunately  it  cannot  yet  be  written. 
Among  other  things  lacking' 'is  the  knowledge 
of  just  how  many  of  the  hundred  thousand 
Belgian  slaves  have  died  or  are  to  die  in  Ger- 
many. Some  have  been  sent  back  hastily,  so 
that  they  would  not  die  in  Germany;  they  die 
on  the  returning  trains,  or  soon  after  they  get 
back.  Or,  what  is  worse,  some  do  not  die,  but 
continue  to  live,  helpless  physical  wrecks. 


202  RELIEF  WORK  IN  BELGIUM 

The  deportations  were  not  hazy  to  us.  They 
were  the  most  vivid,  shocking,  convincing  sin- 
gle happening  in  all  our  enforced  observation 
and  experience  of  German  disregard  of  human 
suffering  and  human  rights  in  Belgium.  .  .  . 

The  deportations  occurred  near  the  end  of 
the  period  of  our  stay  in  Belgium.  They  were 
the  final  and  fully  sufficient  exhibit,  prepared 
by  the  great  German  machine,  to  convince  ab- 
solutely any  one  of  us  who  might  still  have 
been  clinging  to  his  original  desperately  main- 
tained attitude  of  neutrality,  that  it  was  high 
time  that  we  were  somewhere  else — on  the 
other  side  of  the  trench-line,  by  preference. 


PART  VI 
AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 


XXVII 
THE  LAFAYETTE,  OR  AMERICAN,  ESCADRILLE 

NO  development  of  the  Great  War  has  pos- 
sessed for  American  youth  the  novelty, 
the  picturesqueness,  or  the  fascination  of  the 
air-ship  service.  It  isn't  many  years  ago  that 
the  feat  of  sailing  an  air-ship  across  the  Channel 
from  France  to  England,  a  distance  of  less  than 
twenty-five  miles,  was  hailed  as  an  exploit  of 
extraordinary  skill  and  daring.  At  the  present 
writing  there  are  those  who  seriously  advocate 
sending  the  fleet  of  huge  American -built,  Hand- 
ley  Page  bombing  air-ships,  with  their  spread  of 
a  hundred  feet,  to  the  battle  front  in  France 
under  their  own  power  by  a  zigzag  course  to 
Newfoundland,  the  Azores,  and  Spain.  The 
longest  leg  of  this  journey,  from  Newfoundland 
to  the  Azores,  could  be  made  by  one  of  these 
ships,  barring  accidents,  in  about  thirteen  hours. 
Up  to  the  outbreak  of  the  war  the  monoplane 
and  the  biplane  were  regarded  as  wonderful  toys 
of  problematical  commercial  value.  Even  the 
Germans,  to  the  diabolical  ingenuity  of  whom 

205 


206       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

the  development  of  the  poison-gas  bomb  and  the 
flame-throwers  was  due,  seem  to  have  had  no  idea 
of  the  prominent  part  which  the  heavier-than-air 
flying-machines  were  to  play  in  the  conduct  of 
war.  They  had  great  hopes  that  the  Zeppelins 
which  they  possessed  would  give  them  the  mas- 
tery of  the  air  for  unrestricted  bombing  pur- 
poses, but  these  monsters  proved  to  be  too 
unwieldy  and  generally  too  untrustworthy  for 
this  purpose.  The  latest  attempt  of  Zeppelins 
to  bomb  English  cities,  in  August,  1918,  was 
a  complete  fiasco. 

At  first  the  air-ships  were  used  by  both  the 
French  and  the  Germans  for  observation  pur- 
poses only.  It  is  a  legend  of  the  service,  which 
ought  to  be  true  even  if  it  is  not,  that  at  the 
first  meeting  over  the  fighting  lines  of  two 
French  and  German  air-ships,  the  pilots  greeted 
each  other  pleasantly.  At  the  next  meeting 
one — we  may  safely  assume  that  it  was  the 
German ! — scowled  and  shook  his  fist  at  the 
other.  At  the  third  encounter  one  threw  a 
bottle  at  his  adversary,  and  at  the  next  meet- 
ing fired  a  pistol.  The  transition  to  the  quick- 
firing  gun  was  then  rapid. 


THE  LAFAYETTE  ESCADRILLE          207 

The  air  service  appealed  with  especial  force 
to  the  sporting  instincts  of  the  young  Ameri- 
cans who  were  eager  to  help  France  in  her  dire 
extremity.  Its  chief  fascination  lay  in  the  fact 
that  it  offered  practically  free  play  in  a  limitless 
medium  to  individual  initiative,  judgment,  and 
skill.  This  was  a  form  of  warfare  which  har- 
monized perfectly  with  American  traditions  and 
with  the  American  temperament. 

Any  narrative  of  the  exploits  of  American 
volunteer  airmen  in  the  Great  War  must  begin 
with  the  formation  of  the  Lafayette  Escadrille. 
The  full  story  of  the  organization,  after  months 
of  ceaseless  effort  of  this  corps,  was  told  by 
one  of  its  two  surviving  members,  Elliott  C. 
Cowdin,  in  an  article  which  he  published  in 
the  Harvard  Alumni  Bulletin  for  March  7, 
1918.  Cowdin  gave  the  full  credit  for  the 
formation  of  this  flying  corps  and  for  its  incor- 
poration in  the  French  flying  service  to  the 
energy  and  persistence  of  Norman  Prince.  He 
said: 

Norman  Prince  had  spent  many  years  and 
made  many  friends  in  France,  and  felt  it  his 
privilege  and  duty  to  serve  her  in  the  hour  of 


208       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

her  need.  Prince  arrived  in  Paris  by  way  of 
England  early  in  January,  1915.  Knowing 
there  were  many  Americans  in  the  Foreign 
Legion  and  the  various  ambulance  units,  and 
being  one  of  the  pioneer  aviators  of  the  United 
States,  he  conceived  the  idea  of  forming  an 
aero  squadron,  composed  exclusively  of  Ameri- 
cans, to  join  the  French  Army.  He  consulted 
with  his  French  friends,  of  whom  Lieutenant 
Jacque  de  Lesseps  was  the  most  enthusiastic 
and  was  instrumental  in  getting  the  French 
War  Department  to  listen  to  Prince's  ideas  and 
plans.  He  solicited  the  aid  of  several  promi- 
nent Americans  then  residing  in  Paris,  but  they 
all  declined  to  be  identified  in  any  way  with  the 
scheme,  so  that  Prince  had  to  fight  his  own 
battle,  single-handed.  The  French  Government 
told  him  they  could  not  use  his  services,  as  avia- 
tion was  so  popular  among  the  soldiers  and  so 
many  were  seeking  to  be  admitted  to  this  ser- 
vice that  they  had  more  aviators  than  they 
could  use. 

This  decision  was  finally  reversed  through  the 
influence  of  M.  de  Sillac,  who  was  connected 
with  the  Department  of  Foreign  Affairs  and  to 
whom  Prince  had  been  introduced  by  John  J. 
Chapman,  the  father  of  Victor  Chapman.  Of 
the  original  group  of  young  American  airmen 
who  formed  the  Lafayette  Escadrille,  Cowdin 
wrote  as  follows: 


THE  LAFAYETTE  ESCADRILLE          209 

Early  in  May  [1916]  we  were  all  mobilized 
at  the  Alsatian  front  as  the  "Lafayette  Squad- 
ron "  with  French  officers,  Captain  Thenault  and 
Lieutenant  de  Laage,  in  command.  The  origi- 
nal members,  besides  those  officers,  were:  Nor- 
man Prince,  William  Thaw,  Victor  Chapman 
and  Kiffin  Rockwell,  of  the  Foreign  Legion; 
James  McConnell,  who  had  already  done  good 
work  in  the  American  Ambulance  before  join- 
ing the  French  Aviation;  Bert  Hall  and  myself. 
Five  of  the  original  nine  have  been  killed  at  the 
front. 

We  remained  but  a  short  time  in  Alsace  and 
were  then  transferred  to  the  Verdun  Sector, 
where  we  were  joined  by  such  men  as  Lufbery, 
Masson,  Clyde  Balsley  (who  was  severely 
wounded  the  first  week) ,  Dudley  Hill,  Lawrence 
Rumsey  and  Chouteau  Johnson. 

The  Squadron  has  increased  steadily,  so  that 
at  the  end  of  last  year  [1917]  a  total  of  325 
men  had  joined  it,  counting  those  training  in 
various  schools.  Of  this  number,  some  25  have 
given  their  lives,  several  have  been  wounded, 
and  several  are  prisoners. 

Norman  Prince,  Victor  Chapman,  Kiffin 
Rockwell,  Jim  McConnell  and  Lieutenant  de 
Laage  gave  their  lives  gloriously  for  the  great 
cause,  and  the  only  surviving  member  of  the 
original  squadron  left  at  the  front  is  William 
Thaw,  now  a  Major  with  the  American  Force, 
still  flying  and  doing  great  work  for  his  country. 

Norman  Prince  fortunately  lived  long  enough 
to  see  his  long-cherished  ideas  successfully 


210       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

carried  out  and  the  Lafayette  Squadron  at  the 
height  of  its  success. 

The  best  collection  of  pen-portraits  of  these 
early  members  of  the  Lafayette,  or,  as  it  was  as 
often  called,  the  American,  Escadrille  and  the 
most  vivid  and  entertaining  description  of  the 
life  they  led  on  the  ground  and  in  the  air,  are  to 
be  found  in  a  paper  which  one  of  their  number, 
James  McConnell,  contributed  to  the  World's 
Work  for  November,  1916,  and  which  was  later 
incorporated  in  his  book,  "Flying  for  France.'* 
To  McConnell  and  to  those  of  his  companions 
who  for  many  long  months  had  been  trench- 
diggers  in  the  Foreign  Legion  or  drivers  of 
ambulances,  the  transition  to  the  choicest 
branch  of  the  French  military  service  was  as 
startling  as  it  was  welcome.  "For  us  all,"  says 
McConnell,  "it  contained  unlimited  possibilities 
for  initiative  and  for  service  to  France,  and  for 
them  [Rockwell  and  Chapman]  it  must  have 
meant,  too,  the  restoration  of  personality  lost 
during  those  months  in  the  trenches  with  the 
Foreign  Legion." 

As  a  good  air-pilot  was  considered  to  be  of  as 
much  value  to  the  army  as  a  battalion  of  troops, 


THE  LAFAYETTE  ESCADRILLE          211 

nothing  was  left  undone  to  make  the  Americans 
comfortable  and  contented.  McConnell  is  most 
amusing  in  his  serene  contemplation  of  the 
comparative  luxury  of  his  new  surroundings. 
Met  at  the  railway-station  at  Luxeuil,  perhaps 
twenty  miles  northwest  of  Belfort,  by  a  motor- 
car which  took  him  to  the  aviation-field,  he  re- 
called, as  he  lolled  back  against  the  soft  leather 
cushions,  how  in  his  apprenticeship  days  at 
Pau  he  had  had  to  walk  six  miles  for  his  laun- 
dry !  When  he  arrived  at  the  headquarters  of 
the  escadrille  his  surprise  was  even  greater: 

The  equipment  awaiting  us  at  the  field  was 
even  more  impressive  than  our  automobile. 
Everything  was  brand  new,  from  the  fifteen 
Fiat  trucks  to  the  office,  magazine,  and  rest 
tents.  And  the  men  attached  to  the  Esca- 
drille !  At  first  sight  they  seemed  to  outnum- 
ber the  Nicaraguan  army — mechanicians,  chauf- 
feurs, armorers,  motor  cyclists,  telephonists, 
wireless  operators,  Red  Cross  stretcher  bearers, 
clerks !  Afterward  I  learned  they  totalled  sev- 
enty-odd, and  that  all  of  them  were  glad  to  be 
connected  with  the  American  Escadrille. 

In  their  hangars  stood  our  trim  little  Nieu- 
ports.  I  looked  mine  over  with  a  new  feeling 
of  importance  and  gave  orders  to  my  mechani- 
cians for  the  mere  satisfaction  of  being  able  to. 


AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

To  find  oneself  the  sole  proprietor  of  a  fighting 
airplane  is  quite  a  treat,  let  me  tell  you.  One 
gets  accustomed  to  it,  though,  after  one  has 
used  up  two  or  three  of  them — at  the  French 
Government's  expense. 

Rooms  were  assigned  to  us  in  a  villa  adjoin- 
ing the  famous  hot  baths  of  Luxeuil,  where 
Caesar's  cohorts  were  wont  to  besport  them- 
selves. We  messed  with  our  officers,  Captain 
Thenault  and  Lieutenant  de  Laage  de  Mieux, 
at  the  best  hotel  in  town.  An  automobile  was 
always  on  hand  to  carry  us  to  the  field.  I 
began  to  wonder  whether  I  was  a  summer 
resorter  instead  of  a  soldier. 

When  on  his  arrival  McConnell's  attention  was 
called  to  eight  little  boxes  on  the  table  and  he  was 
informed  that  each  contained  a  Croix  de  Guerre 
which  was  to  be  sent  to  the  family  of  a  man 
that  had  been  killed  on  the  last  bombing  expedi- 
tion, his  surroundings  acquired  a  different  mean- 
ing, and  he  noted,  with  a  touch  of  grim  humor: 

I  thought  of  the  luxury  we  were  enjoying: 
our  comfortable  beds,  baths,  and  motor  cars; 
and  then  I  recalled  the  ancient  custom  of  giving 
a  man  selected  for  the  sacrifice  a  royal  time  of 
it  before  the  appointed  day. 

Of  the  seven  members  of  the  American  Esca- 
drille  who  were  together  at  Luxeuil,  three — 


THE  LAFAYETTE  ESCADRILLE          213 

McConnell,  Chapman,  and  Rockwell — were  nov- 
ices in  flying,  just  arrived  from  the  assembly - 
station  for  aviators  near  Paris.  The  other  four 
had  had  more  or  less  experience  with  air-ships 
of  various  types.  McConnell  calls  William 
Thaw,  of  Pittsburgh,  the  pioneer  of  them  all, 
because  he  had  been  in  the  French  flying  service 
since  early  in  1915,  and  by  the  autumn  of  that 
year  he  was  pilot  of  a  Caudron  biplane,  doing 
good  work  as  an  observer.  Meanwhile  Norman 
Prince,  of  Boston,  and  Elliott  Cowdin,  of  New 
York,  who  were  the  first  Americans  to  enter  the 
French  aviation  service,  coming  direct  from  the 
United  States,  had  been  at  the  front  on  Voisin 
air-ships  with  a  "cannon"  mounted  in  the  bow. 
Finally  Bert  Hall,  whose  home  was  in  Texas, 
had  got  himself  transferred,  according  to  Mc- 
Connell, from  the  Foreign  Legion  to  aviation 
soon  after  Thaw  did,  and  learning  the  art 
quickly,  had  been  flying  a  Nieuport  fighting 
machine. 

Of  the  men  mentioned  by  Cowdin  who  joined 
the  American  Escadrille  after  its  headquarters 
were  shifted  to  the  Verdun  sector,  Raoul  Luf- 
bery,  "American  citizen  and  soldier,  but  dweller 


214       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

in  the  world  at  large,"  as  McConnell  calls  him, 
hailed  from  Wallingford,  Conn.  Didier  Masson 
had  been  a  flier  for  exhibition  purposes  in  the 
United  States,  Clyde  Balsley  was  from  El  Paso, 
Dudley  Hill  from  Peekskill,  Lawrence  Rumsey 
from  Buffalo,  and  Chouteau  Johnson  from  New 
York.  All  of  the  men  of  this  group,  except 
Lufbery  and  Masson,  had  been  in  the  ambu- 
lance service,  but  in  McConnell's  expressive 
phrase,  they  were  "tired  of  being  non-comba- 
tant spectators.*'  McConnell  himself  was  born 
in  Chicago,  was  educated  at  the  University  of 
Virginia,  and  was  in  business  in  Carthage,  North 
Carolina,  until  January,  1915,  when  he  sailed 
for  France  and  entered  the  American  Ambu- 
lance service.  Chapman's  home  city  was  New 
York,  and  Kiffin  Rockwell  came  from  Atlanta, 
Georgia. 

The  members  of  the  American  Escadrille  were 
provided,  to  their  great  joy,  with  Nieuport  air- 
ships, which  meant  that  they  were  to  form  a 
fighting  unit.  The  Nieuport  was  then  the  best 
type  of  fighting  airplane  the  French  possessed. 
It  was  a  one-man  air-ship,  with  a  maximum 
speed  of  about  110  miles  an  hour  and  wkh  a 


THE  LAFAYETTE  ESCADRILLE    215 

machine-gun  mounted  on  its  roof.  The  pilot 
fired  the  gun  with  one  hand  and  controlled  his 
ship  with  the  other  and  with  his  feet.  Each  of 
the  machines  bore,  as  the  distinguishing  mark 
of  the  Escadrille,  the  head  in  profile  of  an 
American  Indian;  and  on  the  side  of  the  car 
of  each  was  an  individual  identification  mark, 
that  on  Hall's  being  the  large  letters  BERT, 
and  on  MacConnell's  the  letters  MAC. 

Flying  in  one  of  these  Nieuports,  while  the 
squadron  was  still  at  Luxeuil,  Rockwell  brought 
down  the  Escadrille's  first  German  airplane. 
McConnell  described  the  combat  as  follows: 

He  was  flying  alone  when,  over  Thann,  he 
came  upon  a  German  on  reconnaissance.  He 
dived  and  the  German  turned  toward  his  own 
lines,  opening  fire  from  a  long  distance.  Rock- 
well kept  straight  after  him.  Then,  closing  to 
within  thirty  yards,  he  pressed  on  the  release 
of  his  machine  gun,  and  saw  the  enemy  gunner 
fall  backward  and  the  pilot  crumble  up  side- 
ways in  his  seat.  The  'plane  flopped  downward 
and  crashed  to  earth  just  behind  the  German 
trenches.  Swooping  close  to  the  ground,  Rock- 
well saw  its  debris  burning  away  brightly.  He 
had  turned  the  trick  with  but  four  shots  and 
only  one  German  bullet  had  struck  his  Nieu- 
port.  An  observation  post  telephoned  the  news 


216 

before  Rockwell's  return,  and  he  got  a  great 
welcome.  All  Luxeuil  smiled  upon  him — par- 
ticularly the  girls.  But  he  couldn't  stay  to 
enjoy  his  popularity.  The  Escadrille  was  or- 
dered to  the  sector  of  Verdun. 


XXVIII 
THE  FIRST  AMERICAN  AVIATOR  TO  FALL 

VICTOR  CHAPMAN'S  passion,  as  we  have 
seen,  was  for  color  and  scenery,  with  an 
admixture  of  danger.  His  flying  papers  admitted 
him,  after  ten  wasted  months  in  the  Foreign 
Legion,  into  the  French  aviation  service,  and  by 
the  end  of  August,  1915,  he  was  enjoying  the 
scenery  and  a  modicum  of  danger  from  a  bomb- 
ing machine.  Here  is  his  description,  from  one 
of  his  letters,  of  the  method  of  dropping  a  bomb 
from  an  air-ship: 

We  must  be  nearing  the  spot,  for  the  Lieu- 
tenant motioned  me  to  load  the  projectile. 
This  is  by  far  the  most  difficult  operation,  for 
the  155  shell  with  its  tin  tail  looking  like  a  tor- 
pedo four  feet  long,  is  hung  under  the  body  and 
without  seeing  its  nose  even  one  has  to  reach 
down  in  front  of  the  pilot,  put  the  detonateur  in, 
then  the  percuteur  and  screw  it  fast.  After 
which  I  pulled  off  a  safety  device.  You  may 
imagine  how  I  scrambled  round  in  a  fur  coat 
and  two  pair  of  leather  trousers  and  squeezed 
myself  to  get  my  arm  down  the  hole.  I  really 

217 


218       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

had  a  moment's  nervousness  that  the  detonateur 
would  not  stay  in  the  hole  but  fly  back  into  the 
helice.  However,  all  went  well  and  the  Lieu- 
tenant handed  me  the  plan  of  the  town  of  Dil- 
lingen  where  there  were  said  to  be  huge  casting 
works.  Bad  map  it  was  and  I  got  nothing  out 
of  the  inaudible  explanation  and  gestures.  We 
were  just  passing  over  the  river  Saar  by  Pach- 
ten.  Everything  on  the  detail  map  was  red.  I 
still  have  scruples  about  dropping  on  dwelling 
houses — they  might  be  Alsatians.  Right  under 
us  was  a  great  junction  of  railway  lines,  tracks 
and  sidings.  "That's  a  go,"  I  thought,  and 
pulled  the  handle  when  it  came  in  the  sighter. 
A  slight  sway  and  below  me  the  blue-gray  shell 
poised  and  dipped  its  head.  Straight  away  and 
then  it  seemed  to  remain  motionless.  Pretty 
soon  its  tail  began  to  wag  in  small  circles  and 
then  I  lost  sight  of  it  over  some  tree-tops. 
"Pshaw,"  I  thought,  "there  it's  going  to  fall  on 
its  side,  and  into  a  garden.  Tant  pis!"  When 
all  at  once,  in  the  middle  of  the  railroad  tracks 
a  cloud  of  black  smoke  which  looked  big  even 
from  that  height.  The  Lieutenant  said  after- 
wards that  I  rocked  the  whole  ship  when  I  saw 
where  it  had  fallen ! 

Experience  in  a  bombing  plane  filled  Chap- 
man with  a  desire  to  qualify  as  a  fighting  pilot, 
and  to  join  the  squadron  which  his  friends, 
Norman  Prince  and  Elliott  Cowdin,  were  try- 
ing to  form.  His  letters  for  the  next  few 


FIRST  AMERICAN  AVIATOR  TO  FALL    219 

months  gave  in  detail  his  experiences  at  the 
aviation  school  at  Avord,  where  he  was  learning 
to  fly.  By  the  following  April,  1916,  he  was  at 

Luxeuil  with  his  mates  of  the  American  Esca- 
, 

drille.  In  one  of  his  letters  he  said  that  after 
their  Nieuports  arrived,  he  learned  more  about 
flying  in  five  days  than  he  had  learned  in  the 
previous  five  months. 

Chapman's  first  letter  from  the  Verdun  sector 
was  dated  May  23,  1916.  A  month  later,  to  a 
day,  he  was  killed.  He  wrote  few  letters  in  the 
interval,  apparently  being  too  busy  flying  to 
have  time  to  write  often.  Here  is  his  descrip- 
tion, from  a  letter  dated  June  1,  of  one  morn- 
ing's work: 

This  morning  we  all  started  off  at  three, 
and,  not  having  made  concise  enough  arrange- 
ments, got  separated  in  the  morning  mist.  I 
found  Prince,  however,  and  we  went  to  Douau- 
mont  where  we  found  two  German  reglage  ma- 
chines unprotected  and  fell  upon  them.  A 
skirmish,  a  spitting  of  guns,  and  we  drew  away. 
It  had  been  badly  executed,  that  manoeuvre ! 
But  ho !  another  Boche  heading  for  Verdun ! 
Taking  the  direction  stick  between  my  knees  I 
tussled  and  fought  with  the  mitrailleuse  and 
finally  charged  the  rouleau,  all  the  while  eyeing 


AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

my  Boche  and  moving  across  Vaux  towards 
Etain.  I  had  no  altitude  with  which  to  over- 
take him,  but  a  little  more  speed.  So  I  got 
behind  his  tail  and  spit  till  he  dived  into  his 
own  territory.  Having  lost  Norman,  I  made  a 
tour  to  the  ArgonHe  and  on  the  way  back  saw 
another  fat  Boche.  "No  protection  machine  in 
sight."  I  swooped,  swerved  to  the  right,  to  the 
left,  almost  lost,  but  then  came  up  under  his 
lee  keel  by  the  stern.  (It's  the  one  position 
they  cannot  shoot  from.)  I  seemed  a  dory 
alongside  a  schooner.  I  pulled  up  my  nose  to 
let  him  have  it.  Crr — Crr — Crr — a  cartridge 
jammed  in  the  barrel.  He  jumped  like  a  frog 
and  fled  down  to  his  grounds.  Later  in  the 
morning  I  made  another  stroll  along  the  lines. 
Met  a  flock  of  Nieuports,  and  saw  across  the 
way  a  squad  of  white- winged  L.  V.  G.  How 
like  a  game  of  prisoner's  base  it  all  is  !  I  scurry 
out  in  company,  and  they  run  away.  They 
come  into  my  territory  and  I  being  alone,  take 
to  my  heels.  They  did  come  after  me  once 
too !  Faster  they  are  than  I,  but  I  had  height 
so  they  could  but  leer  up  at  me  with  their  dead- 
white  wings  and  black  crosses  like  sharks,  and 
they  returned  to  their  own  domain. 

Under  the  stimulus  of  the  tremendous  con- 
flict going  on  before  Verdun,  Chapman  fought 
incessantly  and  fearlessly.  In  his  "With  the 
French  Flying  Corps"  Carroll  D.  Winslow, 
who  at  the  time  was  near  the  headquarters  of 


FIRST  AMERICAN  AVIATOR  TO  FALL    221 

the  American  Eseadrille  and  saw  much  of  his 
compatriots,  describes  one  incident  in  Chap- 
man's career: 

I  remember  one  curious  incident  that  oc- 
curred while  I  was  in  the  Verdun  sector.  Vic- 
tor Chapman,  who  was  doing  combat  work 
with  the  American  Escadrille,  after  a  brush 
with  four  German  aeroplanes,  was  forced  to 
descend  to  our  field.  Not  only  had  he  received 
a  bad  scalp  wound  from  a  bullet,  but  his  ma- 
chine had  been  riddled  and  nearly  wrecked. 
One  bullet  had  even  severed  a  metal  stability 
control.  By  all  the  rules  of  aviation  he  should 
have  lost  control  of  his  aeroplane  and  met  with 
a  fatal  accident.  But  Chapman  was  an  expert 
pilot.  He  simply  held  on  to  the  broken  rod 
with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  steered 
his  machine.  This  needed  all  the  strength  at 
his  command,  but  he  had  the  power  and  the 
skill  necessary  to  bring  him  safely  to  earth.  A 
surgeon  immediately  dressed  his  wound,  our 
mechanics  repaired  his  machine.  The  repairs 
completed,  he  was  off  and  up  again  in  pursuit 
of  some  more  Boches.  I  must  say  that  every 
one  considered  him  a  remarkable  pilot.  He  was 
absolutely  fearless,  and  always  willing  and  able 
to  fly  more  than  was  ever  required  of  him.  His 
machine  was  a  sieve  of  patched-up  bullet  holes. 

Chapman's  head  was  still  in  bandages  when, 
a  few  days  later,  he  was  killed,  full  inn  inside 


AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

the  German  lines.  Clyde  Balsley,  to  whom  he 
was  taking  some  oranges  when  he  went  to  the 
assistance  of  several  of  his  hard-pressed  com- 
panions, had  been  dangerously  wounded  and 
was  in  a  near-by  hospital.  Kiffin  Rockwell  sent 
to  Chapman's  stepmother  a  long  letter,  which 
appears  in  the  memoir  prefixed  to  Chapman's 
"Letters  from  France,"  describing  the  circum- 
stances attending  his  fellow  flier's  last  combat. 
In  the  course  of  that  letter  Rockwell  wrote: 

The  following  morning  [June  23]  the  weather 
was  good,  and  he  insisted  on  going  out  at  the 
regular  hour  with  the  rest.  There  were  no 
machines  over  the  lines,  so  the  sortie  was  un- 
eventful. He  came  in,  and  at  lunch  fixed  up  a 
basket  of  oranges  which  he  said  he  would  take 
to  Balsley.  We  went  up  to  the  field,  and  Cap- 
tain Thenault,  Prince  and  Lufbery  got  ready 
to  go  out  and  over  the  lines.  Victor  put  the 
oranges  in  his  machine  and  said  that  he  would 
follow  the  others  over  the  lines  for  a  little  trip 
and  then  go  and  land  at  the  hospital.  The 
Captain,  Prince  and  Lufbery  started  first.  On 
arriving  at  the  lines  they  saw  at  first  two  Ger- 
man machines  which  they  dived  on.  When 
they  arrived  in  the  midst  of  them,  they  found 
that  two  or  three  other  German  machines  had 
arrived  also.  As  the  odds  were  against  the 
three,  they  did  not  fight  long,  but  immediately 


started  back  into  our  lines  and  without  seeing 
Victor. 

When  they  came  back  we  thought  that 
Victor  was  at  the  hospital.  But  later  in  the 
afternoon  a  pilote  of  a  Maurice  Farman  and  his 
passenger  sent  in  a  report.  The  report  was 
that  they  saw  three  Nieupprts  attack  five  Ger- 
man machines,  that  at  this  moment  they  saw 
a  fourth  Nieuport  arriving  with  all  speed  who 
dived  in  the  midst  of  the  Germans,  that  two  of 
the  Germans  dived  towards  their  field  and  that 
the  Nieuport  fell  through  the  air  no  longer  con- 
trolled by  the  pilote.  In  a  fight  it  is  practically 
impossible  to  tell  what  the  other  machines  do, 
as  everything  happens  so  fast  and  all  one  can 
see  is  the  beginning  of  a  fight  and  then,  in  a 
few  seconds,  the  end.  That  fourth  Nieuport 
was  Victor  and,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the 
motor  was  going  at  full  speed  when  the  machine 
fell,  I  think  that  he  was  killed  instantly. 

Chapman  was  the  first  American  aviator  to 
fall  in  battle.  To  the  French,  the  fact  that  a 
young  American  volunteer  of  his  type  had 
made  the  supreme  sacrifice  in  fighting  in  defense 
of  their  cause  was  of  deep  significance.  "The 
death  fight  of  Victor  Chapman,"  wrote  Andre 
Chevillon,  "touches  our  imagination  with  fire." 
"Never,"  said  M.  Jusserand,  the  French  Am- 
bassador to  the  United  States,  on  Lafayette 


224       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

Day,  September  6,  1916 — "Never  in  my  coun- 
try will  the  American  volunteers  of  the  Great 
War  be  forgotten;  some,  according  to  their 
power,  offering  their  pens,  or  their  money,  or 
their  help  to  our  wounded,  or  their  lives." 
The  idealism  of  which  young  Chapman  was  the 
symbol  is  represented,  at  the  present  writing, 
by  more  than  a  million  and  a  half  of  American 
soldiers  in  France,  with  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  others  preparing  to  follow  them. 


XXIX 

KIFFIN  ROCKWELL'S  LAST  COMBAT 

TT7HEN  Kiffin  Rockwell  was  writing  to 
*  *  Chapman's  parents  of  his  friend  Victor's 
last  fight,  he  little  thought  that  in  a  few  weeks 
he  too  would  be  out  of  the  great  game  of  war. 
He  was  a  dashing  fighter,  as  appears  from  Mc- 
Connell's  narrative  already  given  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  brought  down  the  American 
Escadrille's  first  German  airplane  while  flying 
over  the  Vosges.  At  Verdun  he  was  severely 
wounded  in  one  of  his  numerous  combats  with 
the  Germans,  an  explosive  bullet  striking  his 
wind-shield  and  tearing  several  gashes  in  his 
face. 

Rockwell,  however,  was  no  stranger  to 
wounds.  When  in  the  Foreign  Legion  he  was 
wounded  at  Carency.  Chapman  met  him  at 
the  aviation-camp  at  Avord,  and  in  a  letter 
dated  September  27,  1915,  referred  to  him  as 
follows: 


I  find  a  compatriot  I  am  proud  to  own 
here.  A  tall,  lanky  Kentuckian,  called  Rock- 
well. He  got  his  transfer  about  a  month  ago 
from  the  Legion.  He  was  wounded  on  the 
ninth  of  May,  like  Kisling.  In  fact  one-half  of 
the  %me  de  Marche,  2300,  were  wounded  that 
day,  not  counting  the  killed  and  missing.  He 
gives  much  the  best  account  I  have  heard. 
Having  charged  with  the  third  battalion  and 
being  wounded  in  the  leg  on  the  last  bouck,  he 
crawled  back  across  the  entire  field  in  the 
afternoon. 

By  the  middle  of  September,  after  having 
been  in  the  Verdun  sector  since  May  20,  the 
American  Escadrille  started  from  Bar-le-Duc, 
as  was  supposed,  for  the  Paris  aviation  centre 
at  Le  Bourget;  and  the  flying  men  were  like  a 
lot  of  schoolboys  in  anticipation  of  the  holiday 
they  were  to  have.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they 
were  on  the  way  back  to  Luxeuil  near  Belfort 
to  take  part  in  a  great  air-raid  against  the 
Mauser  works  at  Oberndorf.  There  were  ten 
Americans  in  the  party — Lieutenant  Thaw, 
with  a  wounded  arm,  Adjutants  Prince,  Hall, 
Lufbery  and  Masson,  and  Sergeants  Rockwell, 
Hill,  Johnson,  Rumsey,  and  Pavelka.  McCon- 
nell  was  in  the  hospital  with  a  lame  back  due 


KIFFIN  ROCKWELL'S  LAST  COMBAT     227 

to  a  smash-up.  At  Luxeuil  they  found  a  great 
force  of  British  aviators,  more  than  fifty  pilots, 
and  a  thousand  men  as  helpers,  mechanicians, 
etc.  Then  followed  a  long  delay  while  the 
Americans  were  waiting  to  receive  a  new  type 
of  Nieuport  air-ship,  more  powerful  and  better- 
armed  than  the  ones  they  had  been  using.  It 
was  of  this  loafing  period  that  McConnell  in 
his  "Flying  for  France"  wrote: 

It  was  about  as  much  like  war  as  a  Bryan 
lecture.  While  I  was  in  the  hospital  I  received 
a  letter  written  at  this  time  from  one  of  the 
boys.  I  opened  it  expecting  to  read  of  an  air 
combat.  It  informed  me  that  Thaw  had  caught 
a  trout  three  feet  long  and  that  Lufbery  had 
picked  two  baskets  of  mushrooms. 

At  last  the  new  planes  arrived.  McConnell 
gives  the  following  particulars  of  Rockwell's 
first  flight  in  his  new  machine,  of  his  encounter 
with  a  Boche  ship  and  of  its  fatal  ending: 

KifEn  Rockwell  and  Lufbery  were  the  first 
to  get  their  new  machines  ready  and  on  the 
23d  of  September  went  out  for  the  first  flight 
since  the  escadrille  had  arrived  at  Luxeuil. 
They  became  separated  in  the  air,  but  each 
flew  on  alone,  which  was  a  dangerous  thing  to 


228       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

do  in  the  Alsace  sector.  .  .  .  Just  before  Kif- 
fin  Rockwell  reached  the  lines  he  spied  a  Ger- 
man machine  Hnder  him,  flying  at  11,000  feet. 
I  can  imagine  the  satisfaction  he  felt  in  at  last 
catching  an  enemy  plane  in  our  lines.  Rock- 
well had  fought  more  combats  than  the  rest  of 
us  put  together,  and  had  shot  down  many  Ger- 
man machines  that  had  fallen  in  their  lines, 
but  this  was  the  first  time  he  had  had  an  op- 
portunity of  bringing  down  a  Boche  in  our 
territory. 

A  captain,  the  commandant  of  an  Alsatian 
village,  watched  the  aerial  battle  through  his 
field  glasses.  He  said  that  Rockwell  approached 
so  close  to  the  enemy  that  he  thought  there 
would  be  a  collision.  The  German  craft,  which 
carried  two  machine  guns,  had  opened  a  rapid 
fire  when  Rockwell  started  his  dive.  He 
plunged  through  the  stream  of  lead  and  only 
when  very  close  to  his  enemy  did  he  begin 
shooting.  For  a  second  it  looked  as  though 
the  German  was  falling,  so  the  captain  said, 
but  then  he  saw  the  French  machine  turn  rap- 
idly nose  down,  the  wings  of  one  side  broke  off 
and  fluttered  in  the  wake  of  the  airplane,  which 
hurtled  earthward  in  a  rapid  drop.  It  crashed 
into  the  ground  in  a  small  field — a  field  of 
flowers — a  few  hundred  yards  back  of  the 
trenches.  It  was  not  more  than  two  and  a 
half  miles  from  the  spot  where  Rockwell,  in  the 
month  of  May,  brought  down  his  first  enemy 
machine.  The  Germans  immediately  opened 
up  on  the  wreck  with  artillery  *ire.  In  spite  of 


KIFFIN  ROCKWELL'S  LAST  COMBAT     229 

the  bursting  shrapnel,  gunners  from  a  near-by 
battery  rushed  out  and  recovered  poor  Rock- 
well's broken  body. 

Rockwell  was  a  great  favorite  with  his  com- 
panions. McConnell  paid  him  this  tribute: 

No  greater  blow  could  have  befallen  the 
escadrille.  Kiffin  was  its  soul.  He  was  loved 
and  looked  up  to  by  not  only  every  man  in  our 
flying  corps,  but  by  every  one  who  knew  him. 
Kiffin  was  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  the  cause 
for  which  he  fought,  and  gave  his  heart  and 
soul  to  the  performance  of  his  duty.  He  said: 
"I  pay  my  part  for  Lafayette  and  Rocham- 
beau,"  and  he  gave  the  fullest  measure.  The 
old  flame  of  chivalry  burned  brightly  in  this 
boy's  fine  and  sensitive  being.  With  his  death 
France  lost  one  of  her  most  valuable  pilots. 

Rockwell  had  won  the  coveted  Medaille  Mili- 
taire  and  the  Croix  de  Guerre,  on  which  ap- 
peared four  palms,  representing  the  four  cita- 
tions he  had  received  in  the  orders  of  the 
French  Army.  For  he  was  officially  credited 
with  having  brought  down  four  enemy  airplanes 
and  was  believed  to  have  accounted  for  numer- 
ous others  that  had  fallen  within  the  enemy's 
lines.  His  funeral  was  a  splendid  pageant,  par- 
ticipated in  by  every  Frenchman  in  the  avia- 


230       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

tion  service  at  Luxeuil,  by  a  battalion  of  French 
troops,  by  more  than  fifty  of  the  British  pilots, 
followed  by  a  detachment  of  five  hundred  of 
their  men;  and  by  the  little  group  of  his  Ameri- 
can associates. 


XXX 

NORMAN  PRINCE  KILLED  BY  AN  ACCIDENT 

THREE  weeks  after  Kiffin  Rockwell  was 
killed  Norman  Prince,  to  whose  energy 
and  persistence,  as  we  have  seen,  the  organiza- 
tion of  the  Lafayette  Escadrille  was  due,  met 
his  death  by  an  accident  while  making  a  land- 
ing at  night. 

A  great  lover  of  out-of-door  sports,  especially 
hunting  and  polo,  Prince  was  a  close  student  of 
the  art  of  flying  long  before  the  war  began. 
Born  at  Pride's  Crossing,  Massachusetts,  he  was 
educated  at  Groton  and  at  Harvard,  where  he 
was  graduated  in  1908.  After  going  through 
the  Harvard  Law  School  he  went  to  Chicago  to 
practise  his  profession.  For  recreation  he  took 
up  the  study  and  practice  of  aviation,  then  in 
its  infancy;  and  he  found  this  pursuit  so  much 
more  congenial  than  the  law  that  his  avocation 
finally  became  his  vocation,  the  scientific  in- 
vestigation of  the  construction  and  control  of 
aircraft  absorbing  practically  all  of  his  time. 

231 


232       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

When  the  war  began  Prince  was  thus  much 
more  familiar  with  air-ships  than  were  most 
young  Americans.  His  sympathy  with  the 
cause  for  which  the  Allies  were  fighting,  and 
especially  his  affection  and  admiration  for 
France,  prompted  him  to  go  abroad  early  in 
January,  1915,  and  offer  his  services  to  the 
aviation  corps  of  the  French  Army.  They  were 
accepted,  and  he  was  sent  to  Pau,  where  he 
went  into  training.  His  previous  experience 
with  air-ships  brought  him  quickly  into  active 
service.  His  intimate  letters  to  members  of  his 
family,  an  address  which  he  delivered  at  the 
Tavern  Club,  Boston,  on  the  occasion  of  his  last 
visit  home  on  a  furlough,  in  December,  1915, 
and  a  memoir  by  George  F.  Babbitt,  are  to  be 
found  in  a  memorial  volume,  published  in  1917, 
called  "Norman  Prince:  A  Volunteer  Who  Died 
for  the  Cause  He  Loved." 

A  few  paragraphs  may  be  quoted  from  this 
volume.  Writing  on  September  6,  1915,  from 
northern  France,  near  Arras,  when  he  was  in  a 
French  flying  corps,  Prince  said: 

I  am  happy  and  in  the  best  of  health.  I 
sleep  under  canvas  on  a  stretcher  bed  and  eat 


PRINCE  KILLED  BY  AN  ACCIDENT     233 

in  the  shed  of  an  old  farm  house  near  by.  I 
have  nothing  to  complain  of.  I  like  it.  There 
are  ten  American  pilots  with  us  in  the  French 
service  and  twelve  others  in  training,  with  their 
number  constantly  increasing.  Some  day  soon 
we  will  all  be  united  in  one  escadrille — an  Esca- 
drille  Americaine — that  is  my  fondest  ambi- 
tion. I  am  devoting  all  my  spare  energies  to 
organizing  it,  and  all  the  American  pilots  here 
are  giving  me  every  encouragement  and  assis- 
tance in  the  work  of  preliminary  organization. 

Here  is  a  selection  from  Prince's  address  at 
the  Tavern  Club,  on  the  Christmas  night  fol- 
lowing, describing  a  bombing  expedition  to  the 
railway-station  at  Douai,  as  a  result  of  which 
he  won  his  first  decoration,  the  Croix  de  Guerre: 

I  was  fortunate  enough  that  day  to  escape 
the  range  of  the  German  flying  machines  by 
going  further  north  and  passing  through  the 
clouds,  though  I  was  shelled  from  a  long  dis- 
tance all  the  way.  I  succeeded  in  dropping 
my  bombs  on  a  railroad  station,  one  of  which  I 
saw  explode  in  a  bunch  of  freight  cars  in  the 
railroad  yard.  As  I  was  returning  within  our 
lines  the  Englishmen,  by  mistake,  opened  a 
brisk  fire  on  me,  which  necessitated  my  going 
up  into  the  clouds  again.  I  proceeded  due  west 
until  I  ran  out  of  gasoline,  and  I  then  descended 
in  the  dark  near  the  headquarters  of  the  Eng- 
lish. It  was  my  good  fortune  to  land  safely, 


234       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

and  on  my  arrival  at  my  post  I  was  brought 
before  the  English  commander,  who  asked  me 
to  tell  my  story.  Mine  being  one  of  the  four 
machines  out  of  twenty  that  had  reached  Douai 
in  the  raid,  I  was  awarded  a  citation  and  given 
the  right  to  wear  a  War  Cross — my  first  deco- 
ration. 

In  the  same  address  Prince  gave  an  account 
of  a  perilous  adventure  which  he  had  had  in 
the  midsummer  previous,  when  for  a  month  his 
headquarters  were  near  Nancy: 

During  this  month  in  Lorraine  I  experienced 
the  hardest  knock  I  had  received  up  to  that 
time.  One  day  six  German  machines,  fully 
equipped,  bombarded  Nancy  and  our  aviation 
field.  To  retaliate,  my  squadron  was  sent  out 
to  bombard  their  field  on  the  same  afternoon. 
We  started  with  thirty  machines  to  a  designated 
rendezvous,  and  fifty  minutes  later,  after  get- 
ting grouped,  we  proceeded  to  our  ultimate 
destination.  I  had  a  very  fast  machine,  and 
reached  the  German  flying  field  without  being 
hit.  When  about  to  let  go  my  bombs  and 
while  my  observer  was  aiming  at  the  hangars 
of  the  Germans,  my  machine  was  attacked  by 
them — one  on  the  left  and  two  on  the  right. 
I  shouted  to  my  observer  to  drop  his  bombs, 
which  he  did,  and  we  immediately  straightened 
out  for  home.  While  I  was  on  the  bank  the 
Germans  opened  fire  on  me  with  their  machine 


PRINCE  KILLED  BY  AN  ACCIDENT     235 

guns,  which  were  even  more  perilous  than  their 
shells. 

My  motor  stopped  a  few  moments  after- 
wards. It  had  given  out,  and  to  make  matters 
worse,  a  fourth  German  machine  came  at  us 
directly  in  front.  My  observer,  who  was  an 
excellent  shot,  let  go  at  him,  with  the  result 
that  when  last  seen  this  German  aeroplane  was 
about  four  hundred  feet  below  and  quite  out 
of  control.  The  other  Germans  behind  kept 
bothering  us.  If  they  had  possessed  ordinary 
courage  they  might  have  got  us.  Flying  with- 
out any  motive  power  compelled  me  to  stand 
my  machine  on  end  to  keep  ahead  of  them.  As 
we  were  nearing  the  French  lines  these  Ger- 
mans left  us,  but  immediately  batteries  from 
another  direction  opened  fire  on  us.  As  I  was 
barely  moving,  I  made  an  excellent  target.  One 
shell  burst  near  enough  to  put  shrapnel  in  my 
machine.  It  is  marvellous  how  hard  we  can  be 
hit  by  shrapnel  and  have  no  vital  part  of  our 
equipment  injured.  I  knew  I  was  now  over 
the  French  lines  which  I  must  have  crossed  at 
a  height  of  four  hundred  metres.  I  finally 
landed  in  a  field  covered  with  white  crosses 
marking  the  graves  of  the  French  and  German 
soldiers  who  had  fallen  the  previous  September 
at  this  point. 

Prince  in  February,  1916,  was  training  to  fly 
the  fastest  combat  air-ship  that  the  French  then 
possessed — "quite  a  different  instrument,"  he 


says,  "from  the  avion  canon,  which  weighs  three 
times  more  than  these  small  chasing  appareils." 
A  little  later,  as  has  already  been  pointed  out, 
his  great  ambition  was  realized  in  the  forma- 
tion of  a  purely  American  corps  of  fighting  air- 
planes through  which  he  hoped  that  more  credit 
would  redound  to  the  United  States  than  would 
be  the  case  if  these  American  volunteers  were 
scattered  among  the  various  French  aviation 
units. 

He  was  at  Verdun  when  Chapman  was  killed. 
Writing  under  date  of  June  26,  1916,  he  said: 

Poor  Victor  Chapman !  He  had  been  miss- 
ing for  a  week  and  we  knew  there  was  only  a 
very  remote  chance  that  he  was  a  prisoner. 
He  was  of  tremendous  assistance  to  me  in  get- 
ting together  the  Escadrille.  His  heart  was  in 
it  to  make  ours  as  good  as  any  on  the  front. 
Victor  was  as  brave  as  a  lion  and  sometimes  he 
was  almost  too  courageous — attacking  German 
machines  whenever  and  wherever  he  saw  them, 
regardless  of  the  chances  against  him.  .  .  . 
Victor  was  killed  while  attacking  an  aeroplane 
that  was  coming  against  Lufbery  and  me. 
Another  unaccounted-for  German  came  up  and 
brought  Victor  down  while  he  was  endeavoring 
to  protect  us.  A  glorious  death — -face  a  Vennemi 
and  for  a  great  cause  and  to  save  a  friend  ! 


PRINCE  KILLED  BY  AN  ACCIDENT    237 

When  Prince  and  his  associates  of  the  Ameri- 
can Escadrille  returned  a  little  later  to  Luxeuil 
they  found  preparations  under  way  for  the 
great  Allied  raid  on  the  Mauser  works  at  Obern- 
dorf.  Four  of  the  battle-planes  that  went  out 
on  this  raid  as  protection  for  the  bombing  ma- 
chines were  from  the  American  Eseadrille — 
those  of  Lieutenant  de  Laage  de  Mieux,  Luf- 
bery,  Norman  Prince,  and  Masson. 

The  raid  was  successful  in  every  way,  the 
Germans  being  takeii  by  surprise.  In  the 
course  of  it  Lufbery  downed  his  fifth  enemy 
machine,  and  thus  qualified  for  the  honor  of 
being  called  an  "Ace"  in  flying  argot.  It  was 
when  he  was  returning  from  this  expedition  on 
the  night  of  the  12th  of  October,  1916,  that 
Prince  met  with  the  accident  that  resulted  a 
few  days  later  in  his  death.  When  he  was  at- 
tempting to  make  a  landing  after  dark,  within 
the  French  lines,  his  aip-ship  struck  a  wire  cable 
and  was  wrecked.  The  fall  injured  him  so 
severely  that  he  lived  only  a  few  days.  Up  to 
this  time  he  had  been  engaged  in  no  fewer  than 
one  hundred  and  twenty-two  aerial  engage- 
ments, and  was  officially  credited  with  having 


238       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

brought  down  five  Boche  planes  in  battle,  and 
was  known  to  have  conquered  four  others  not 
officially  recorded.  He  had  won,  as  has  been 
noted,  the  Croix  de  Guerre  and  the  Medaille 
Militaire;  and  the  Croix  de  la  Legion  d'Honneur 
was  sent  to  him  as  he  lay  in  the  hospital.  He 
was  buried  with  all  military  honors. 


XXXI 

JAMES  McCONNELL,  HISTORIAN 


selections  already  reproduced  from 
James  R.  McConnelTs  book,  "Flying  for 
France,"  must  have  given  the  reader  a  reason- 
ably clear  insight  into  the  traits  of  character 
which  endeared  the  writer  of  those  pages  to  his 
comrades  in  the  American  Escadrille.  He  may  in- 
deed be  called  the  historian  of  that  organization 
during  the  first  eventful  six  months  of  its  career, 
so  vivid  are  his  pen-portraits  of  his  associates 
and  so  graphic  are  his  descriptions  of  their  life 
on  the  ground  and  of  their  adventures  in  the 
air.  Before  entering  aviation,  as  has  already 
been  noted,  he  had  driven  an  ambulance  in  the 
American  Ambulance  Field  Service  from  Feb- 
ruary to  December,  1915,  and  had  contributed 
to  the  Outlook  the  best  account  printed  up 
to  that  time  of  the  experiences  of  the  men 
at  Pont-a-Mousson  and  around  Bois-le-Pre'tre, 
where  some  of  the  heaviest  fighting  of  the  early 

239 


240       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

part  of  the  war  took  place.  In  all  of  these 
writings  McConnell  showed  that  he  was  en- 
dowed with  somewhat  of  that  rare  gift  which 
Richard  Harding  Davis  possessed  to  the  full,  of 
distinguishing  clearly  between  the  significant 
and  the  insignificant  in  the  incidents  and  events 
of  the  day's  work  or  play,  and  of  investing  de- 
tails with  color,  life,  and  interest,  and  often  with 
a  charming  humor  peculiarly  American. 

The  spirit  with  which  he  left  his  work  in 
North  Carolina  to  enter  the  ambulance  service 
in  France  is  indicated  in  this  paragraph  from 
the  introduction  to  his  book  in  which  the  editor, 
"F.  C.  P.,"  describes  meeting  him  one  day  in 
January,  1915,  in  front  of  the  court  house  in 
Carthage,  when  he  announced  that  he  was 
leaving  on  the  following  Wednesday: 

And  then  he  went  on  to  tell  me,  first,  that, 
as  he  saw  it,  the  greatest  event  in  history  was 
going  on  right  at  hand  and  that  he  would  be 
missing  the  opportunity  of  a  life-time  if  he  did 
not  see  it.  "These  sand  hills,"  he  said,  "will 
be  here  forever,  but  the  war  won't;  and  so  I'm 
going."  Then,  as  an  afterthought,  he  added: 
"And  I'll  be  of  some  use,  too,  not  just  a  sight- 
seer, looking  on;  that  wouldn't  be  fair." 


JAMES  McCONNELL,  HISTORIAN        241 

As  happened  in  the  case  of  so  many  other 
young  American  volunteers,  interest  in  the  war 
as  primarily  a  great  adventure  was  gradually 
replaced  in  McConnelTs  mind  by  an  absorbing 
desire  to  be  of  substantial  assistance  to  the 
French  people,  who,  it  was  found,  were  fighting 
the  fight  of  liberty  and  justice  against  enormous 
odds.  McConnell's  account  of  the  change  is 
simple  and  direct: 

All  along  I  had  been  convinced  that  the 
United  States  ought  to  aid  in  the  struggle 
against  Germany.  With  that  conviction  it  was 
plainly  up  to  me  to  do  more  than  drive  an  am- 
bulance. The  more  I  saw  the  splendor  of  the 
fight  the  French  were  fighting,  the  more  I  began 
to  feel  like  an  embusque — what  the  British  call 
a  "shirker."  So  I  made  up  my  mind  to  go  into 
aviation. 

McConnell  learned  to  fly  at  Pau,  and  qualified 
as  a  pilot  in  season  to  become,  as  we  have  al- 
ready seen,  one  of  the  original  members  of  the 
Lafayette,  or  as  he  preferred  to  call  it,  the 
American,  Escadrille,  who  assembled  at  Luxeuil, 
on  the  Alsatian  front,  in  the  spring  of  1916. 
Under  date  of  May  14  he  gave,  in  a  private 
letter,  these  details  of  his  first  expedition  over 


242       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

the  enemy's  lines  in  an  avion  de  chasse,  the 
function  of  which  was,  in  his  words,  "to  shoot 
down  Boches  or  keep  them  away  from  our 
lines": 

Well,  I've  made  my  first  trip  over  the  lines 
and  proved  a  few  things  to  myself.  First,  I  can 
stand  high  altitudes.  I  had  never  been  above 
7,000  feet  before,  nor  had  I  flown  more  than 
an  hour.  On  my  trip  to  Germany  I  went  to 
14,000  feet  and  was  in  air  for  two  hours.  I 
wore  the  fur  head-to-foot  combination  they 
give  one  and  paper  gloves  under  the  fur  gloves 
you  sent  me.  I  was  not  cold.  In  a  way  it 
seemed  amusing  to  be  going  out  knowing  as 
little  as  I  do.  My  mitrailleuse  had  been 
mounted  the  night  before.  I  had  never  fired 
it.  Nor  did  I  know  the  country  at  all  even 
though  I'd  motored  along  our  lines.  I  followed 
the  others  or  I  surely  would  have  been  lost.  I 
shall  have  to  make  special  trips  to  study  the 
land  and  be  able  to  make  it  out  from  my  map 
which  I  carry  on  board.  For  one  thing  the 
weather  was  hazy  and  clouds  obscured  the  view. 

When  the  city  of  Miilhausen  seemed  directly 
under  him  McConnell  "noted  with  keen  satis- 
faction their  invasion  of  real  German  territory.'* 
"The  Rhine,  too,"  he  adds,  with  a  touch  of 
whimsical  humor,  "looked  delightfully  accessi- 
ble." 


JAMES  McCONNELL,  HISTORIAN        243 

After  the  squadron  was  transferred  to  the 
Verdun  front  McConnell  noted  that  combats 
occurred  on  almost  every  sortie  into  the  enemy 
territory.  The  Germans,  as  always,  played  the 
game  cleverly,  trusting  that  the  eagerness  of 
the  young  Americans  to  get  into  a  fight  would 
bring  them  beyond  the  German  lines,  where  a 
superior  force  could  be  brought  to  bear  against 
them.  This  is  exactly  what  happened  again 
and  again,  and  accounted  in  large  part  for 
the  number  of  casualties  which  the  Americans 
suffered.  "The  Boches,"  wrote  McConnell, 
"keep  well  within  their  lines,  save  occasion- 
ally, and  we  have  to  go  over  and  fight  them 
there." 

Here  is  a  description  of  the  daily  life  McCon- 
nell was  leading  at  Verdun  from  a  private  letter 
dated  July  30: 

Weather  has  been  fine  and  we've  been  doing 
a  lot  of  work.  Our  lieutenant — De  Laage  de 
Mieux — brought  down  a  Boche.  I  had  another 
beautiful  smash-up.  Prince  and  I  had  stayed 
top  long  over  the  lines.  Important  day,  as  an 
attack  was  going  on.  It  was  getting  dark  and 
we  could  see  the  tiny  balls  of  fire  the  infantry 
light  to  show  the  low-flying  observation  ma- 
chines their  new  positions.  On  return,  as  I 


244       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

was  over  another  aviation  field  my  motoi 
broke.  I  made  for  field.  In  darkness  I  couldn't, 
judge  my  distance  well  and  went  too  far.  At 
edge  of  field  there  were  trees  and  beyond  a  deep 
cut  where  road  ran.  I  was  skinning  ground  at 
170  kilometers  [about  100  miles]  an  hour  and 
heading  for  trees.  I  saw  soldiers  running  to  be 
in  at  finish  and  I  thought  myself  that  James's 
hash  was  cooked,  but  I  went  between  trees  and 
ended  up  head-on  on  the  opposite  bank  of  road. 
My  motor  took  the  shock  and  my  belt  held  me. 
As  my  tail  went  up  it  was  cut  in  two  by  some 
very  low  'phone  wires.  I  wasn't  bruised  even. 
Took  dinner  with  the  officers  there,  who  gave 
me  a  car  to  go  home  in  afterward. 

To-day  I  shared  another  chap's  machine 
(Hill  of  Peekskill,  who  knows  McCord),  and 
got  it  shot  up  for  him.  De  Laage,  our  lieuten- 
ant, and  I  made  a  sortie  at  noon.  When  in  the 
German  lines  near  Cote  304  I  saw  two  Bodies 
under  me.  I  picked  out  the  rear  chap  and 
dove.  Fired  a  few  shots  and  then  tried  to  get 
under  his  tail  and  hit  him  from  there.  I  missed 
and  bobbed  up  alongside  of  him.  Fine  for  the 
Boche  but  rotten  for  me.  I  could  see  his  gun- 
ner working  the  mitrailleuse  for  fair,  and  felt 
his  bullets  darn  close.  I  dove,  for  I  could  not 
shoot  from  that  position,  and  beat  it.  He  kept 
plunking  away  and  all  together  put  seven  holes 
in  my  machine.  One  was  only  ten  inches  in 
front  of  me.  De  Laage  was  too  far  off  to  get 
to  the  Boche  and  ruin  him  while  I  was  amusing 
him. 


JAMES  McCONNELL,  HISTORIAN        245 

As  the  result  of  a  lame  back  due  to  another 
smash-up,  McConnell  was  in  the  hospital  for 
several  weeks,  rejoining  his  fellow  Americans  of 
the  Lafayette  Escadrille  some  time  after  they 
had  been  transferred  from  Alsace  to  the  Somme 
front  in  October.  The  winter  of  1916-17  was 
comparatively  quiet  on  the  Somme  and  in  the 
sector  from  Roye  to  Soissons.  With  the  early 
spring,  however,  the  activity  increased. 

McConnell's  last  flight  took  place  on  March 
19,  1917,  only  a  few  weeks  before  the  United 
States  declared  war  against  Germany.  He 
made  this  flight  in  company  with  Edmond 
Genet,  who,  having  been  "at  school"  all  the 
autumn  and  winter,  had  joined  the  American 
squadron  a  couple  of  months  before.  In  a  let- 
ter to  his  mother,  dated  March  20,  1917,  as  it 
appears  in  the  "  War  Letters  of  Edmond  Genet," 
McConnell's  flying  mate  wrote: 

We  are  all  feeling  decidedly  blue  because 
our  oldest  pilot  of  the  escadrille — one  of  the 
four  who  were  its  first  members  (the  other  3 
were  Prince,  Chapman  and  Rockwell) — has 
been  missing  since  yesterday  morning  and  un- 
doubtedly is  on  the  other  side  of  the  lines — 
either  dead  or  wounded  and  a  prisoner.  He  is 


246       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

McConnell,  the  one  who  wrote  such  a  good 
account  of  the  escadrille  which  was  published 
in  World's  Work.  He  and  I  were  out  together 
yesterday  morning  over  the  new  territory  just 
captured  by  the  French  and  English,  and  about 
ten  o'clock,  while  well  inside  the  enemy  lines, 
we  encountered  two  German  biplane  machines. 
I  mounted  to  attack  the  nearest  and  left  Mac 
to  take  care  of  the  second,  and  it  is  the  last  seen 
of  him.  There  were  plenty  of  clouds  and  mist, 
and  after  I  had  finished  my  scrap  with  the  one 
I  attacked,  in  which  I  got  one  of  my  main  upper 
wing-supports  cut  in  half,  a  guiding-rod  cut  in 
half,  several  bullets  through  my  upper  wing, 
and  half  an  explosive  bullet  in  the  side  of  my 
left  cheek,  which  stunned  me  for  a  moment,  I 
went  down  lower  to  look  for  "Mac"  and  help 
him  if  he  was  hard  pressed,  and  looked  all 
around  and  waited  for  fifteen  minutes  for  him 
to  show  up,  but  I  could  see  neither  him  nor  the 
German  machine  which  must  have  attacked 
him.  My  upper  wing  was  in  great  danger  of 
breaking  off,  the  support  being  half  cut  through, 
my  wound  was  bleeding  and  pained  quite  a  bit, 
so  I  finally  headed  back  for  camp,  hoping  Mac 
had  perhaps  missed  me  and  gone  back  before 
me.  I  had  a  driving  wind  to  face  going  back 
and  had  to  fly  very  low  to  get  beneath  heavy 
clouds  to  see  my  way. 

When  I  got  to  ground  on  our  field  I  looked 
in  vain  for  Mac's  machine.  When  I  asked  if 
he  had  returned  my  worst  fears  were  confirmed. 
He  had  not,  and  we  have,  up  to  the  present 


JAMES  McCONNELL,  HISTORIAN        247 

time,  had  absolutely  no  news  of  him  whatso- 
ever. It's  terrible,  little  Mother.  I  feel  hor- 
ribly over  it,  for  I  was  the  only  one  with  him. 

A  week  later  Genet  was  able  to  report  the 
finding  of  McConnell's  body: 

Jim  McConnell  has  just  gallantly  earned  a 
lonely  grave  out  behind  the  present  fighting- 
lines.  I  wrote  to  you  last  Tuesday — the  day 
after  he  and  I  were  out  together,  when  we  had 
to  return,  wounded,  without  him  and  with  no 
definite  news  of  him.  Since  then  the  Germans 
were  forced  back  further  and  finally  French 
troops  came  across  a  badly  smashed  Nieuport 
with  the  body  of  a  sergeant  pilot  beside  the 
ruins.  All  identification  papers  were  gone  and 
the  d—  — d  Boches  had  even  taken  off  the  flying 
clothes  and  even  the  boots  and  left  the  body 
where  it  had  fallen.  The  number  of  the  ma- 
chine was  sent  in  and  so  we  knew  it  was  Mac's. 

The  following  morning,  after  a  flight  over 
the  lines,  I  spiralled  down  over  the  location 
given  and  found  the  wreck — almost  unrecogniz- 
able as  an  aeroplane,  crushed  into  the  ground  at 
the  edge  of  a  shell-torn  and  wrecked  little  vil- 
lage. I  circled  over  it  for  a  few  minutes  and 
then  back  to  camp  to  report.  Our  captain  flew 
over  that  way  the  same  morning  to  see  about 
the  body.  When  he  returned  he  told  us  about 
the  clothes  and  shoes  having  been  stolen  and 
said  that  Mac  had  been  buried  beside  the  road 
next  to  which  he  had  fallen.  There  is  no  doubt 


248       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

but  that  he  was  killed  during  the  combat  in  the 
air  and  the  machine  crashed  down  full  speed  to 
the  earth.  Since  that  day  I've  chased  two 
Boche  machines,  but  could  get  up  to  neither, 
but  I'll  get  one  yet  and  more  than  one,  or  be 
dropped  myself,  to  avenge  poor  Mac. 


XXXII 

GENET  IN  THE  AMERICAN  ESCADRILLE 

YOUNG  Edmond  Genet  was  very  happy 
when,  early  in  June,  1916,  he  found  him- 
self no  longer  a  Legionnaire,  but  a  student  at 
the  French  military  aviation  school  at  Buc,  not 
far  from  Paris.  "We're  treated  finely  here,"  he 
wrote  to  his  brother,  "have  excellent  quarters, 
the  food  is  good,  and,  except  for  the  uniform 
and  other  personal  clothes  which  we  buy  our- 
selves, we're  fitted  out  extremely  well."  The 
future  looked  very  bright  to  him.  "This  is 
what  one  can  call  the  real  thing.  This  is  sport 
wTith  all  the  fascination  and  excitement  and 
sporting  chances  any  live  fellow  could  ever 
wish  for." 

Under  the  stress  of  war  the  previous  year  of 
1915,  however,  had  witnessed  such  a  marvellous 
development,  both  in  the  construction  of  air- 
ships and  in  the  art  of  controlling  them,  that  a 
much  longer  time  was  required  than  formerly 
to  qualify  a  novice  for  this  increasingly  difficult 

249 


250       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

branch  of  the  army  service.  The  consequence 
was  that  it  was  not  until  about  the  middle  of 
the  following  January,  in  1917,  that  Genet  at 
last  found  himself  at  the  front  as  a  fully  quali- 
fied pilote  amateur  in  the  American  Escadrille. 
In  the  meantime,  while  learning  all  the  tricks 
of  the  pilot  of  an  avion  de  chasse,  Genet,  like  his 
fellow  compatriots  in  the  different  branches  of 
the  French  service,  was  deeply  interested  in  the 
result  of  the  presidential  election  in  the  United 
States,  especially  in  its  relation  to  the  war. 
His  elation  over  the  early  reports  of  the  election 
of  Hughes  was  followed,  when  later  news  an- 
nounced that  Wilson  had  been  re-elected,  by 
hot  indignation  and  a  feeling  of  bitter  humilia- 
tion. To  a  friend  he  wrote,  under  date  of 
November  15: 

Where  has  all  the  old  genuine  honor  and 
patriotism  and  humane  feelings  of  our  country- 
men gone?  What  are  those  people,  who  live 
on  their  farms  in  the  West,  safe  from  the  chances 
of  foreign  invasion,  made  of,  anyway?  They 
decided  the  election  of  Mr.  Wilson.  Don't 
they  know  anything  about  the  invasion  of  Bel- 
gium, the  submarine  warfare  against  their  own 
countrymen  and  all  the  other  outrages  which 
all  neutral  countries,  headed  by  the  United 


GENET  IN  THE  AMERICAN  ESCADRILLE    251 

States,  should  have  long  ago  rose  up  and  sup- 
pressed and  which,  because  of  the  past  admin- 
istration's "peace  at  any  price"  attitude  have 
been  left  to  increase  and  increase  ?  They  crave 
for  peace,  those  unthinking,  uncaring  voters, 
and  what's  the  reason?  Why,  they're  making 
money  hand  over  fist  because  their  country  is 
at  peace — at  peace  at  the  price  of  its  honor  and 
respect  in  the  whole  civilized  world — at  peace 
while  France  and  Belgium  are  being  soaked  in 
blood  by  a  barbarous  invasion — while  the  very 
citizens  of  the  United  States  are  being  murdered 
and  those  same  invaders  are  laughing  behind 
our  backs — even  in  our  very  faces.  ...  It 
couldn't  be  possible  for  Americans  in  America 
to  feel  the  same  bitter  way  as  Americans  over 
here  among  the  very  scenes  of  this  war's  hor- 
rors. It's  not  comprehensible  over  there  where 
peace  reigns  supreme.  Come  over  here  and 
you'll  be  engulfed  like  the  rest  of  us  in  the 
realization  of  the  necessity  of  the  whole  civilized 
world  arming  itself  against  this  intrusion  of 
utter  brutality  and  militaristic  arrogance. 
Peace — God  forbid  such  happiness  until  the  in- 
vaders have  been  victoriously  driven  back  be- 
hind their  own  borders,  knowing  the  lesson  of 
their  folly  in  treading  ruthlessly  on  unoffending 
neutral  territory  and  all  the  rest  of  their  deeds 
of  piracy  and  the  blood  of  France  and  Belgium 
has  dried  up. 

During  his  period  of  training  Genet  met  with 
the  usual  accidents  to  which  students  are  sub- 


252       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

ject.  Once  he  fell  fifty  yards  or  so  in  a  fifty- 
horse-power  Bleriot  monoplane,  smashing  the 
machine  to  "pieces  no  larger  than  matchsticks." 
Being  strapped  in  tightly,  however,  he  escaped 
with  only  a  badly  wrenched  hip  and  back.  On 
another  occasion  he  turned  over  completely  in 
a  Nieuport  plane,  without  the  slightest  injury 
to  himself.  For  diversion  he  was  able,  on  one 
of  his  trips  to  Paris,  to  enjoy  a  performance  of 
"Samson  et  Delila"  at  the  opera.  At  last,  on 
January  20,  1917,  he  reached  the  front  as  a 
member  of  the  Lafayette  Escadrille,  finding 
himself,  oddly  enough,  in  the  same  neighbor- 
hood where,  nearly  two  years  earlier,  he  had 
begun  his  service  in  the  Foreign  Legion. 

In  a  letter  to  his  brother  Rivers,  Genet  gave 
this  description  of  his  first  flight  over  the  lines 
in  his  new  110  horse-power  Nieuport: 

The  first  morning  I  flew  over  the  lines  I 
went  4,200  metres  (about  12,600  ft.)  which  is 
some  altitude  for  a  clear  and  very  cold  morning. 
The  view  was  wonderful  and  just  about  500 
metres  below  and  to  our  right  (I  was  out  with 
one  of  the  other  fellows)  shells  fired  at  us  from 
a  German  anti-aircraft  battery  were  bursting. 
A  light  covering  of  snow  helped  to  accentuate 


GENET  IN  THE  AMERICAN  ESCADRILLE    253 

the  outlines  of  the  ground,  the  railroad-lines, 
roads,  villages,  etc.  That  was  one  of  our  ex- 
ceptional clear  days  though.  This  is  surely  no 
kid's  game.  It's  mighty  tiring  and  trying  on 
the  nerves  and  one  feels  it  lots  at  the  end  of 
each  day's  flying.  One  has  to  keep  constantly 
on  the  alert — and  a  mighty  wide-awake  alert 
too.  Manoeuvring  the  machine  has  practically 
to  be  done  involuntarily — mechanically,  I  should 
say,  and  keep  all  the  senses  absolutely  on  the 
alert  for  the  enemy  and  the  course  taken.  The 
enemy  machines  drop  down  behind  one  with 
blamed  suddenness  and  then  there's  the  devil 
to  pay.  It's  some  job !  There  isn't  a  great 
deal  of  danger  of  being  brought  down  by  shells 
although  there  have  been  machines  brought 
down  that  way — mostly  with  a  lot  of  luck  on 
the  part  of  the  gunners.  Both  sides,  though, 
do  possess  some  mighty  good  anti-aircraft  bat- 
teries. 

Genet  made  many  flights  and  had  several 
combats  with  German  air-ships,  on  one  occasion 
coming  very  near  getting  lost  in  the  enemy's 
territory,  owing  to  the  thickness  of  the  weather. 
Finally  came  the  expedition  with  McConnell, 
Genet's  description  of  which  has  already  been 
given.  Genet  himself  was  a  fatalist  and  ex- 
pected to  meet  the  same  end  as  that  which  had 
overtaken  Chapman,  Rockwell,  Prince,  and 


254       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

now  McConnell.  But  he  faced  the  probability 
with  high  courage.  "All  we  ask,"  he  said,  "is 
to  be  able  to  bring  down  a  few  of  the  enemy 
machines  before  our  turn  comes."  Genet's  last 
letter  to  his  "dear  little  Mother"  was  dated 
April  15,  a  little  more  than  a  week  after  the 
United  States  declared  war  against  Germany. 
He  was  killed  on  the  following  day  while  mak- 
ing a  sortie  over  the  lines  with  Lufbery. 

Lufbery's  account  of  his  companion's  death 
was  as  follows: 

One  afternoon,  at  half -past  two,  Genet  and 
I  were  ordered  to  make  a  patrol  on  the  lines 
between  St.  Quentin  and  La  Fere.  I  was  lead- 
ing and  everything  seemed  to  be  all  right.  At 
about  3  o'clock  somewhere  around  Moy  the 
German  anti-aircrafts  started  to  shell  us.  I 
saw  very  plainly  three  shells  bursting  right 
behind  Genet's  machine,  about  one  hundred 
yards  from  it.  As  we  get  that  very  often  I  did 
not  pay  much  attention  to  it.  Many  times  I 
myself  had  been  shelled  much  closer  than  that 
and  nothing  had  happened.  Anyway,  I  don't 
know  if  he  got  hit  or  not,  but  he  suddenly  turned 
around  and  went  toward  the  French  lines.  I 
followed  him  for  about  three  or  four  minutes 
to  make  sure  that  he  was  taking  the  right 
direction,  after  that  I  went  back  to  the  lines 
to  finish  my  patrol  duty.  There  is  another 


GENET  IN  THE  AMERICAN  ESCADRILLE    255 

thing:  Genet  that  day  was  not  feeling  well.  He 
went  out  in  the  morning  for  a  moment,  and 
when  he  landed  he  told  us  that  there  was  some- 
thing wrong  with  him  and  went  to  bed.  We  did 
not  want  to  let  him  go  to  the  afternoon  sortie, 
but  he  insisted,  saying  he  was  now  much  better. 

Soldiers  who  saw  him  fall  say  that  the  ma- 
chine got  in  a  corkscrew  dive  at  about  1,400 
yards  high,  finally  a  wing  came  off  and  the 
whole  thing  crashed  on  the  ground. 

I  do  not  know  exactly  what  happened,  but 
might  suppose  that,  being  ill,  he  fainted.  He 
also  might  have  got  wounded  by  a  piece  of  shell. 

Genet  was  a  nice  little  fellow  and  everybody 
in  the  Escadrille  was  very  fond  of  him.  He 
was  very  brave  and  I  am  sure  he  would  have 
become  one  of  the  best. 


In  a  letter  to  Paul  Rockwell,  Sergeant  Walter 
Lovell,  of  Newtonville,  Massachusetts,  then  in 
the  American  Escadrille,  after  having  been 
graduated,  as  so  many  of  his  fellows  were,  from 
the  American  Ambulance  service — told  of  the 
finding  of  Genet's  body  at  a  spot  a  few  miles 
within  the  French  lines  and  not  far  from  where 
McConnell  fell  a  few  weeks  earlier.  "He  had 
fallen  with  the  motor  in  full  speed  in  the  middle 
of  the  road,  which  proves  that  the  German  shell 
had  killed  him  or  rendered  him  unconscious." 


256       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

He  was  buried  with   full  military  honors   at 
Ham. 

Genet  is  thought  to  have  been  the  first 
American  to  be  killed  after  the  United  States 
entered  the  war.  In  accordance  with  his  re- 
quest, his  body  was  wrapped  in  the  French  flag, 
and  both  the  French  and  the  American  flags 
were  placed  upon  his  grave.  Finally,  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  read  dry-eyed  these  paragraphs  from 
Paul  Rockwell's  letter  to  the  boy's  mother: 

I  feel  a  sympathy  with  you  that  I  cannot 
find  words  to  express,  I  would  have  written 
you  ere  now,  but  the  loss  of  dear  little  Edmond 
coming  right  after  that  of  Jim  gave  me  such  a 
feeling  of  the  "blues"  that  I  could  not  write. 

Anyway  we  know  that  Edmond  fell  for  some- 
thing worth  while,  and  that  he  was  so  fine  an 
idealist  he  didn't  mind  dying  for  the  cause.  He 
is  over  there  with  Kiffin  and  Jim  and  the  other 
boys  and  it  will  not  be  long  until  we  will  be 
with  them  too. 

I  think  that  one  enters  eternity  with  the 
same  force  and  strength  that  one  quits  this 
world  with,  and  that  one  falling  in  battle  in  the 
full  bloom  of  youth  and  energy  has  a  better 
place  in  the  next  world  than  those  who  linger 
here  and  die  of  illness  or  age.  Anyhow  I  would 
change  places  with  any  one  of  the  boys  who 
have  died  so  gallantly. 


XXXIII 
MAJOR  LUFBERY,   ACE   OF   AMERICAN   ACES 

NO  more  romantic  career  than  that  of 
Raoul  Lufbery,  of  Wallingford,  Connecti- 
cut, world-rover  and  soldier  of  fortune,  has  thus 
far  emerged  from  the  turmoil  and  smoke  of  the 
great  war.  That  a  wanderer  for  years  over  the 
face  of  the  earth,  born  of  an  American  father 
and  a  French  mother,  should  have  finally  found 
himself  on  the  bloody  fields  of  France  and 
should  have  won,  by  his  brilliant  conquests  of 
the  Boches  in  the  air,  the  three  highest  honors 
the  French  could  bestow  upon  him,  together 
with  the  British  Military  Cross  for  distinguished 
service,  must  seem  indeed  like  a  fairy-tale. 

Lufbery  was  born  thirty-four  years  ago  in 
Clermont,  France,  and  was  brought  up  after 
he  was  six,  when  his  mother  died,  by  his  mater- 
nal grandmother.  Unlike  most  French  boys, 
and  owing  possibly  to  his  American  blood,  he 
developed  a  roving  disposition — wanted  to  see 
the  world.  So  when  he  was  fifteen  he  ran  away 

257 


258       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

and  went  to  Paris.  But  Paris  disappointed 
him — there  were  too  many  people  and  there 
were  too  few  opportunities  for  quiet  meditation, 
of  which  he  was  increasingly  fond,  even  at  that 
early  age.  The  conventional  life  did  not  ap- 
peal to  him. 

Then  began  the  wanderings  of  this  Franco- 
American  Ulysses.  First  he  sailed  to  Algiers, 
where,  being  ill,  he  went  to  the  hospital.  Being 
a  likable  sort  of  a  fellow,  sympathetic  by  nature 
and  deft  with  his  hands,  he  became,  on  his  re- 
covery, an  orderly  in  the  hospital  and  stayed 
there  two  years.  Speaking  of  his  adaptability 
for  army  service,  his  brother  Charles  said  to  a 
writer  for  the  New  York  Sun : 

He  was  always  ready  to  risk  everything, 
and  the  moment's  joy  was  all  he  wanted  from 
it.  Ah,  he  is  splendid  for  an  army !  He  could 
dress  wounds,  or  cook  or  comfort  the  wounded, 
and  do  all  those  simple  things  which  so  few 
know  how  to  do  at  all.  He  ought  to  know 
them.  He  has  made  his  living  since  he  was 
fifteen. 

From  Algiers  Lufbery  wandered  to  Egypt 
and  thence,  after  many  adventures,  to  Constan- 
tinople, through  Roumania  and  finally  to  Ger- 


LUFBERY,  ACE  OF  AMERICAN  ACES    259 

many,  learning,  while  working  in  a  brewery  at 
Fulda,  to  speak  and  read  German.  But  he 
wanted  to  see  the  rest  of  the  world  and  to  visit 
his  own  people,  his  father,  his  brothers,  and  his 
half-sisters  in  New  England.  So  he  made  his 
way  to  Hamburg  and  worked  until  he  had 
money  enough  to  take  him  to  New  York.  He 
reached  Wallingford  in  1906,  but  family  ties 
were  not  strong  enough  to  keep  him  there  per- 
manently. Regular  work  in  a  silver  factory 
was  not  to  his  taste.  So,  after  a  year  and  a 
half,  he  set  forth  again,  making  brief  stays  in 
New  Orleans,  where  he  worked  in  a  bakery,  and 
in  San  Francisco,  where  he  was  a  waiter  in  a 
hotel.  In  1908  he  was  in  Honolulu  and  from 
there  he  went  to  the  Philippines,  where  he 
served  in  the  United  States  Army  for  more  than 
a  year.  In  1911  his  people  in  Wallingford  re- 
ceived word  from  him  that  he  was  in  Canton, 
China,  and  had  a  place  in  the  Imperial  Chinese 
customs  service. 

While  he  was  in  the  Far  East  Lufbery  got 
his  first  taste  of  aviation  and  through  this  ex- 
perience was  led  to  offer  his  services  to  the 
French  in  the  war.  The  circumstances  were 


260       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

thus  stated  by  the  New  York  Evening  Post  in  a 
sketch  of  Lufbery: 

Several  years  ago  he  met  the  aviator,  Marc 
Pourpe,  in  Asia,  who  trained  him  as  his  assis- 
tant. Lufbery  discovered  for  the  first  time 
that  he  was  an  American  when  he  attempted 
to  enlist  with  Pourpe  at  the  outbreak  of  the 
war,  and  was  rejected  on  account  of  his  nation- 
ality. He  was  finally  permitted  to  go  to  the 
front  as  Pourpe's  mechanic.  Pourpe  was  killed 
soon  afterward,  and  Lufbery  importuned  the 
French  authorities  for  permission  to  be  trained 
as  a  pilot,  and  his  request  was  finally  granted. 
He  joined  the  Lafayette  Escadrille  when  it  was 
sent  to  the  Verdun  sector  in  May,  1916. 

Before  becoming  a  member  of  the  Lafayette 
Escadrille  Lufbery  had  gone  through  the  usual 
experience  of  beginners  in  bombing  machines. 
He  contributed  to  Everybody's  Magazine  for 
February,  1918,  a  description  of  one  such  expe- 
dition in  which  he  took  part  in  January,  1916, 
as  the  pilot  of  a  140  horse-power  Voisin  airplane. 
The  fleet  consisted  of  no  fewer  than  forty  ships 
and  the  objective  was  the  Metz-Sablons  rail- 
way-station. Lufbery  pictured  the  approach  to 
this  objective  through  shrapnel  fire,  and  con- 
tinued as  follows: 


LUFBERY,  ACE  OF  AMERICAN  ACES    261 

A  few  minutes  later  I  found  myself  over  the 
spacious  station  of  Metz.  This  was  our  objec- 
tive. The  machine  in  front  of  me  executed  a 
semi-circle  in  order  to  give  the  slower  aeroplanes 
time  to  come  up.  Handicapped  by  my  140 
h.  p.  I  took  no  part  in  this  manoeuvre,  but  flew 
straight  to  the  point,  where  I  was  the  first  to 
arrive. 

Our  coming  must  have  been  announced,  as 
several  enemy  machines  came  from  every  direc- 
tion to  meet  us.  One  of  them  advanced  toward 
me.  Quickly  I  turned  my  head  to  see  if  my 
observer  was  on  his  guard.  His  machine  gun 
was  pointed  at  the  enemy,  his  finger  on  the 
trigger.  At  a  distance  of  one  hundred  and 
fifty  metres,  the  enemy  machine  made  a  brisk 
movement  to  get  beyond  our  range,  turning  to 
enable  its  gunner  to  fire  at  us.  But  this  ma- 
nreuvre  was  useless,  for  the  greater  number  of 
the  biplane  machines  have  two  guns,  one  sta- 
tionary, which  fires  from  the  front,  the  other 
mounted  on  a  turret  in  the  rear. 

I  kept  my  eye  on  my  adversary.  I  could 
clearly  see  the  black  painted  cross  on  his  fusi- 
lage  and  helm.  The  fight  began.  We  ex- 
changed a  shower  of  bullets.  The  Boche  piqued, 
apparently  having  had  enough.  I  did  not  think 
it  worth  my  while  to  follow  him,  as  there  was 
nothing  now  to  obstruct  our  way,  and  I  had 
an  important  mission  to  fulfil. 

Through  the  wind  shield  I  could  distinguish 
railroad  tracks,  trains,  stationary  and  on  the 
move,  stores  of  goods,  hangars,  etc. 


262       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

My  observer  tapped  me  on  the  shoulder  and 
signed  for  me  to  go  ahead.  Another  tap  in- 
formed me  that  the  bombs  had  been  dropped. 
Our  mission  was  accomplished.  All  that  re- 
mained for  us  to  do  now  was  to  get  back  to 
camp  as  soon  as  possible.  The  Boches  were 
hurrying  up  in  numbers.  We  had  to  keep  a 
watch  on  all  sides.  We  were  surprised  by  a 
monoplane  Fokker,  which  hurled  at  us  a  shower 
of  bullets  and  departed  before  we  had  time  to 
respond.  Two  or  three  short,  sharp,  familiar 
sounds  told  me  that  my  machine  was  hit.  But 
my  motor  continued  its  regular  throb,  and  my 
observer  reported  that  the  gasoline  tank  was 
untouched. 

The  wind  blowing  from  the  north  facilitated 
our  return.  In  a  short  time  we  were  over  our 
lines.  Then  I  laughed,  without  knowing  why. 
I  looked  at  my  observer,  and  he  too  laughed. 
We  were  both  feeling  good. 

Lufbery's  skill  as  a  fighting  pilot  developed 
rapidly  after  he  joined  the  American  Escadrille. 
From  that  admirable  record  of  the  achievements 
of  the  members  of  this  corps,  McConnelPs 
"Flying  for  France,"  two  instances  may  be 
cited.  This  relates  to  a  combat  over  the  Ver- 
dun battlefield: 

A  pilot  seldom  has  the  satisfaction  of  be- 
holding the  result  of  his  bull's-eye  bullet. 


LUFBERY,  ACE  OF  AMERICAN  ACES    263 

Rarely,  so  difficult  is  it  to  follow  the  turnings 
and  twistings  of  the  dropping  'plane,  does  he 
see  his  fallen  foe  strike  the  ground.  Lufbery's 
last  direct  hit  was  an  exception,  for  he  followed 
all  that  took  place  from  a  balcony  seat.  I 
myself  was  in  the  "nigger-heaven,"  so  I  know. 
We  had  set  out  on  a  sortie  together  just  before 
noon  one  August  day,  and  for  the  first  time  on 
such  an  occasion  had  lost  each  other  over  the 
lines.  Seeing  no  Germans,  I  passed  my  time 
hovering  over  the  French  observation  machines. 
Lufbery  found  one,  however,  and  promptly 
brought  it  down.  Just  then  I  chanced  to  make 
a  southward  turn,  and  caught  sight  of  an  air- 
plane falling  out  of  the  sky  into  the  German 
lines. 

As  it  turned  over,  it  showed  its  white  belly 
for  an  instant,  then  seemed  to  straighten  out, 
and  planed  downward  in  big  zigzags.  The 
pilot  must  have  gripped  his  controls  even  in 
death,  for  his  craft  did  not  tumble  as  most  do. 
It  passed  between  my  line  of  vision  and  a  wood, 
into  which  it  disappeared.  Just  as  I  was  going 
down  to  find  out  where  it  landed,  I  saw  it  again 
skimming  across  a  field,  and  heading  straight 
for  the  brown  band  beneath  me.  It  was  out- 
lined against  the  shell-racked  earth  like  a  tiny 
insect,  until  just  northwest  of  Fort  Douaumont 
it  crashed  down  upon  the  battlefield.  A  sheet 
of  flame  and  smoke  shot  up  from  the  tangled 
wreckage.  I  watched  it  burn  a  moment  or  two, 
then  went  back  to  the  observation  machines. 

I  thought  Lufbery  would  show  up  and  point 


264       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

to  where  the  German  had  fallen.  He  failed  to 
appear,  and  I  began  to  be  afraid  it  was  he 
whom  I  had  seen  come  down,  instead  of  an 
enemy.  I  spent  a  worried  hour  before  my  re- 
turn homeward.  After  getting  back  I  learned 
that  Lufbery  was  quite  safe,  having  hurried  in 
after  the  fight  to  report  the  destruction  of  his 
adversary  before  somebody  else  claimed  him, 
which  is  only  too  frequently  the  case.  Obser- 
vation posts,  however,  confirmed  Lufbery's 
story,  and  he  was  of  course  very  much  de- 
lighted. Nevertheless,  at  luncheon  I  heard  him 
murmuring,  half  to  himself,  "Those  poor  fel- 
lows!" 

Noticing  on  another  occasion  during  a  fight 
with  a  Boche  that  a  German  plane  was  over 
French  territory,  Lufbery  swooped  down  near 
his  adversary,  waved  a  good-by,  which  was 
returned,  and  "whirred  off  to  chase  the  other 
representative  of  Kultur."  McConnell  con- 
tinued: 

He  caught  up  with  him  and  dove  to  the 
attack,  but  he  was  surprised  by  a  German  he 
had  not  seen.  Before  he  could  escape  three 
bullets  entered  his  motor,  two  passed  through 
the  fur-lined  combination  he  wore,  another 
ripped  open  one  of  his  woolen  flying  boots,  his 
airplane  was  riddled  from  wing-tip  to  wing-tip, 
and  other  bullets  cut  the  elevating  plane.  Had 


LUFBERY,  ACE  OF  AMERICAN  ACES    265 

he  not  been  an  exceptional  aviator  he  never 
would  have  brought  safely  to  earth  so  badly 
damaged  a  machine.  It  was  so  thoroughly 
shot  up  that  it  was  junked  as  being  beyond 
repairs. 

Lufbery's  conquests  in  his  combats  with  the 
Germans  won  for  him  in  quick  succession  the 
Croix  de  Guerre,  the  Medaille  Militaire  and 
the  Croix  de  la  Legion  d'Honneur  from  the 
French,  and  the  Military  Cross  for  Distinguished 
Service  from  his  British  associates.  On  De- 
cember 27,  1917,  he  wrote  in  quaint  phraseology 
to  his  brother  Charles  in  Wallingford,  as  quoted 
in  the  sketch  in  the  New  York  Sun  already  re- 
ferred to,  as  follows: 

Now,  I  am  looking  like  a  Christmas  tree, 
medals  all  over  my  chest.  The  last  one  I  was 
decorated  with  is  a  Montenegrin  order,  with  a 
ribbon  red,  blue  and  white.  Though  it  has 
not  the  value  of  the  French  Legion  of  Honor  or 
the  Military  Medal,  I  am  awfully  proud  to 
wear  it. 

You  certainly  have  heard  through  the 
newspapers  about  my  commission  in  the  Ameri- 
can aviation,  but  the  truth  is  I  have  been  ap- 
pointed to  that  rank  (Major)  a  month  ago,  but 
I  cannot  wear  the  uniform  yet,  as  the  French 
are  still  holding  my  discharge. 


266       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

I  now  have  sixteen  official  German  machines 
to  my  credit,  and  many  others  unofficial.  On 
December  2  I  brought  two  of  them  down. 

Well,  how  is  everything  up  at  the  old  Wal- 
lingford?  I  would  like  very  much  to  see  it 
back  again.  Unfortunately,  I  must  to  give  it 
up  for  the  present.  For  I  should  like  to  organ- 
ize some  sort  of  a  little  flying  circus  for  the 
Germans  before  I  leave  here. 


Major  Lufbery,  however,  was  destined  never 
to  see  "the  old  Wallingford"  "back  again." 
For  a  few  months  later,  on  Sunday,  May  19, 
1918,  he  was  killed  by  a  fall  from  his  machine, 
which  had  apparently  been  set  on  fire  by  incen- 
diary bullets  from  a  huge  German  air-ship,  with 
two  guns,  in  a  desperate  combat  over  the  city 
of  Toul.  At  the  time  of  his  death  he  was  offi- 
cially credited  with  having  shot  down  eighteen 
enemy  planes,  far  and  away  the  most  note- 
worthy achievement  of  any  American  in  the 
aviation  service. 

One  of  those  who  took  part  in  the  military 
funeral  of  Major  Lufbery  the  next  day  was  a 
fellow  aviator,  Lieutenant  Kenneth  P.  Culbert, 
who  had  been  graduated  at  Harvard  in  the  pre- 
vious year.  In  the  middle  of  a  long  letter  dated 


Copyright  by  the  Committee  on  Public  Information. 

Major  Raoul  Lufbery. 


LUFBERY,  ACE  OF  AMERICAN  ACES    267 

May  21  from  Lieutenant  Culbert  to  Professor 
C.  T.  Copeland,  of  Cambridge,  which  was 
printed  in  the  Harvard  Alumni  Bulletin,  ap- 
peared this  description  of  the  funeral  of  Major 
Lufbery : 

Perhaps  you'd  like  to  hear  of  Major  Luf- 
bery's  funeral — you  doubtless  know  that  he  was 
shot  down,  and  fell  from  his  burning  plane  into 
a  courtyard.  He  had  done  a  great  deal  in 
uniting  the  French  and  Americans, — he  was  the 
greatest  of  our  airmen  and  seventh  on  the  list 
of  French  aces, — he  had  all  the  qualities  of  a 
soldier,  audacity,  utter  fearlessness,  persistency, 
and  tremendous  skill, — in  every  way,  sir,  he  was 
a  valuable  man. 

As  we  marched  to  his  interment  the  sun 
was  just  sinking  behind  the  mountain  that 

rises  so  abruptly  in  front  of  T ;  the  sky  was 

a  faultless  blue,  and  the  air  was  heavy  with  the 
scent  of  the  blossoms  on  the  trees  in  the  sur- 
rounding fields.  An  American  and  French 
general  led  the  procession,  following  close  on 
to  a  band  which  played  the  funeral  march  and 
"Nearer  My  God  to  Thee"  in  so  beautiful  a 
way  that  I  for  one  could  hardly  keep  my  eyes 
dry.  Then  followed  the  officers  of  his  squadron 
and  of  my  own — and  after  us  an  assorted  group 
of  Frenchmen  famous  in  the  stories  of  this  war, 
American  officers  of  high  rank,  and  two  Ameri- 
can companies  of  infantry,  separated  by  a 
French  one. 


268       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

How  slowly  we  seemed  to  march  as  we 
went  to  his  grave,  passing  before  crowds  of 
American  nurses  in  their  clean  white  uniforms, 
and  a  throng  of  patients  and  French  civilians ! 
He  was  given  a  full  military  burial;  with  the 
salutes  of  the  firing  squad,  and  the  two  repeti- 
tions of  taps,  one  answering  the  other  from  the 

west.     General  E made  a  brief  address,  one 

of  the  finest  talks  I  have  ever  heard  any  man 
give — while  throughout  all  the  ceremony  French 
and  American  planes  circled  the  field.  In  all 
my  life  I  have  never  heard  taps  blown  so  beau- 
tifully as  on  that  afternoon — even  some  of  the 
officers  joined  the  women  there  in  quietly  dab- 
bing at  their  eyes  with  white  handkerchiefs. 
France  and  United  States  had  truly  assembled 
to  pay  a  last  tribute  to  one  of  their  soldiers. 
My  only  prayer  is  that  somehow  through  some 
means  I  can  do  as  much  as  he  for  my  country 
before  I  too  wander  west — if  in  that  direction 
I  am  to  travel. 

On  the  very  next  day,  as  Fate  willed  it,  May 
22,  the  writer  of  these  words  was  killed  in 
combat,  his  spirit,  one  may  believe,  joining  that 
of  his  comrade  Lufbery  in  the  journey  "west- 
ward." 


XXXIV 

MAJOR  THAW,  PIONEER  AMERICAN  AVIATOR 

THE  opening  chapter  of  this  book  was  de- 
voted to  some  of  the  experiences  of  young 
William  Thaw,  of  Yale,  in  the  Foreign  Legion. 
Its  final  chapter  shall  treat  of  the  exploits  in 
the  aviation  service  of  France  and  of  the  United 
States,  of  Major  William  Thaw,  of  Pittsburgh, 
now  four  years  older  than  he  was  when  he  de- 
cided that  this  was  to  be  a  conflict  between 
civilization  and  barbarism,  and  that  it  was  up 
to  him  as  a  good  American  to  take  active  part 
in  it.  At  last  accounts  he  was  still  fighting  the 
Boches,  the  only  survivor  over  the  firing-lines 
of  that  gallant  little  band  of  American  volun- 
teers who  formed  the  original  Lafayette  Esca- 
drille,  and  the  pioneer  as  well,  in  the  French 
air  service,  of  them  all. 

Thaw  joined  the  Legion  as  the  quickest  and 
easiest  way  of  getting  into  the  firing-lines. 
But,  as  we  have  seen,  his  experience  with  this 
branch  of  the  French  service  was  disappointing, 

269 


270       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

and  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  pull  enough  official 
wires  he  got  himself  transferred,  in  December, 
1914,  into  the  French  flying  service.  He  was 
not  altogether  a  novice  in  an  air  machine,  for, 
like  Norman  Prince,  he  had  done  some  flying  in 
the  United  States  before  the  war,  though  not, 
as  he  admits  in  one  of  his  letters,  over  land. 
He  returned  to  the  United  States  on  a  brief 
furlough  in  the  autumn  of  1916;  and  this  visit 
recalled  to  a  writer  in  the  Yale  Alumni  Weekly 
that  at  the  beginning  of  his  sophomore  year 
Thaw  had  arrived  at  New  Haven  in  a  hydro- 
aeroplane. 

At  the  end  of  December,  1914,  Thaw  was 
at  Mervel,  attached  to  Escadrille  D  6  of  the 
French  Aviation  Corps  as  an  observer.  His 
capacity  for  this  work  and  his  personality  evi- 
dently impressed  the  French  officers,  and  they 
made  his  pathway  easy.  The  contrast,  more- 
over, between  his  present  mode  of  life  and  that 
of  the  trenches  made  him  very  contented. 

From  the  same  group  of  Thaw's  letters  to  his 
family  from  which  quotations  have  already 
been  made — originally  published  in  the  Yale 
Alumni  Weekly — a  few  more  selections  relating 


THAW,  PIONEER  AMERICAN  AVIATOR    271 

to  this  period  may  be  taken.     Thus,  under  date 
of  December  28,  1915,  he  wrote: 

About  three  or  four  times  a  week  I  have  to 
go  on  little  joy-rides  in  a  good  machine  (we 
have  six  80-gnome  Deperdussins)  with  a  good 
pilot  (two  of  the  six  here  have  won  the  Legion 
of  Honor  and  two  the  Military  Medal),  mark 
the  position  of  German  batteries,  and  regulate 
by  means  of  smoke  signals  the  firing  of  our 
guns. 

A  career  as  an  observer  and  as  a  regulator  of 
artillery-fire  did  not,  however,  satisfy  Thaw's 
ambition;  he  wanted  to  fly  his  own  battle-plane ! 
So  he  schemed  and  manoeuvred  to  secure  ad- 
mittance to  a  military  training-camp,  where  he 
could  obtain  in  time  a  license  to  fly.  Finally, 
in  February,  1915,  he  carried  his  point  and  was 
sent  to  the  Reserve  of  Pilots,  as  it  was  called, 
Caudron  Division,  at  Buc.  His  letter  of  Feb- 
ruary 14  tells  how  he  evaded  being  sent  to 
school  at  Pau: 

They  wanted  to  send  me  to  the  school  at 
Pau,  but  I  know  what  schools  are,  so  I  told 
them  that  my  name  was  W.  Caudron  Thaw, 
and  finally  persuaded  them  to  give  me  a  try. 
I  was  rather  up  against  it  though,  as  I'd  never 


272       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

flown  on  land,  never  with  a  rotary  motor,  never 
with  the  propeller  in  front,  and  never  with  that 
control,  and  at  Buc  they  have  nothing  but  the 
big  regulation  80  H.  P.  machines.  But  one  of 
my  favorite  mottoes  is,  "try  anything  once," 
so  the  second  day  I  got  a  ten-minute  ride  as  a 
passenger  to  get  the  feel  of  the  machine,  and 
since  then,  in  the  occasional  streaks  of  fairly 
good  weather,  I  have  flown  alone  twice,  and 
the  Captain  says  that  I  can  take  the  brevet 
militaire  the  first  good  day.  But  that  is  very 
simple,  as  they  have  eliminated  the  cross- 
country tests,  and  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  stay 
up  for  one  hour  at  two  thousand  metres. 

So  I  hope  to  be  back  at  the  front  in  two  or 
three  weeks  (and  this  time  with  a  good  job 
instead  of  being  a  ditch-digger),  probably  with 
my  old  escadrille,  which,  I  believe,  is  going  to 
change  to  Caudrons.  Anyway,  the  Captain  (of 
D.  6)  who  is  now  at  Buc  practising,  having 
changed  from  Dep.  to  Caudron,  has  asked  to 
have  me  with  him,  whether  he  takes  the  same 
escadrille  or  not,  so  I  should  worry ! 

Under  date  of  April  7  Thaw  wrote  that  the 
French  aviation  centre  had  been  moved  from 
Buc  to  Bourget,  only  a  few  miles  from  Paris, 
which  was  easily  reached  by  tram-car.  Evi- 
dently he  had  made  good  progress,  for  he  said 
that  he  had  been  acting  as  a  sort  of  instructor, 
"teaching  green  observateurs  how  to  observe." 


THAW,  PIONEER  AMERICAN  AVIATOR     273 

At  the  time  of  writing  Thaw  had  just  reached 
the  front  again  and  was  glad  to  be  there: 

The  Caudron,  though  very  slow  (113  kils.* 
p.  h.),  is  really  a  remarkable  little  machine. 
Day  before  yesterday  four  of  us  came  over  here 
to  Luneville,  where  we  are  located  indefinitely 
on  the  champ  des  man&uvres,  about  8  kils.  be- 
hind the  lines;  the  other  two  are  coming  over 
later.  ...  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  al- 
though I  am  supposed  here  to  be  a  pretty  good 
pilote,  it  was  my  first  cross-country  flight.  And 
it  certainly  is  sport  sailing  along  through  the 
clouds,  steering  by  map  and  compass. 

Under  date  of  April  18  Thaw  wrote  of  his 
first  meeting  with  a  German  "Taube": 

Another  short  letter,  just  to  say  "Hello" 
and  "tout  va  bien."-  -The  past  few  days  since  I 
wrote  you  have  passed  very  quickly — just 
enough  work  to  seem  to  be  busy,  and  very, 
very  interesting  work  at  that.  Have  made  six 
reconnaissances  to  date,  and  to-morrow  morning 
I  do  my  first  regulating  of  artillery  fire,  having 
tried  out  my  wireless  to-day.  Have  so  far 
flown  about  1200  kils.j  over  German  territory, 
and  have  more  than  once  brought  back  fairly 
important  information.  So,  as  I  said  before, 
it  certainly  feels  great  to  be  really  doing  soine- 

*  About  70  miles  per  hour. 
I  Approximately  750  miles. 


274       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

thing. — Met  my  first  and  only  "Taube"  last 
Thursday  morning,  and,  believe  me,  I  was 
scared.  But  so  was  he  and  beat  it  straight 
down,  much  to  my  relief,  as  we  were  40  kils. 
from  our  lines. — Every  day  something  new, 
something  exciting.  It's  a  great  life.  .  .  . 

McConnell  notes  that  during  the  autumn  of 
1915  Thaw  was  doing  excellent  work  at  the 
front  as  the  pilot  of  a  Caudron  biplane  carrying 
an  observer.  During  the  autumn  and  winter, 
however,  he  was  co-operating  heartily  with  Nor- 
man Prince  and  Elliott  Cowdin  in  their  efforts 
to  persuade  the  French  authorities  to  allow  them 
to  form  a  purely  American  flying  squadron. 

When,  late  in  the  winter,  the  project  seemed 
likely  to  succeed,  Thaw  is  found  elaborately 
planning  to  have  Captain  Thenault  appointed 
to  the  command  of  the  new  squadron.  Thus  in 
a  letter  dated  February  21,  1916,  Victor  Chap- 
man wrote: 

Now  we  must  have  a  French  Captain.  But 
first,  as  to  the  people  who  are  running  this. 
They  are,  of  course,  the  three  you  know — Thaw, 
Cowdin  and  Prince.  Thaw,  though  the  young- 
est, has  perhaps  more  weight,  being  a  sows- 
Lieutenant.  Thaw  wants  his  old  chief  at 
his  Caudron  Escadrille,  Capitaine  Thenault, 


THAW,  PIONEER  AMERICAN  AVIATOR     275 

a  charming  fellow,  but  young.  Balsan,  after 
being  asked  to  look  into  the  matter,  gave  some 
uncertain  answer.  Thaw  wants  him  if  it's 
physically  possible.  Meanwhile  we  wait,  and  if 
nothing  is  done,  we  greatly  fear  that  Thenault 
may  be  definitely  refused  us  and  some  "ser- 
vice" Capitaine  be  dumped  upon  us  to  make 
our  life  unpleasant. 


Thaw  as  usual  carried  his  point:  Captain 
Thenault  was  put  in  command  of  the  Lafayette 
Escadrille,  with  Lieutenant  de  Laage  de  Mieux 
second  in  command.  A  year  later  Edmond 
Genet,  in  one  of  his  letters  describing  the  Amer- 
ican Escadrille  as  it  then  was,  wrote  of  The- 
nault: 

We  have  a  very  pleasant  captain  of  the  esca- 
drille,  and  the  lieutenant  (de  Laage)  is  a  dandy 
fellow.  Of  course,  Thaw,  who  is  a  lieutenant, 
looks  out  for  us  a  good  deal,  but  de  Laage  is 
our  regular  lieutenant.  Both  he  and  the  cap- 
tain speak  English — particularly  de  Laage.  We 
all  eat  together  in  one  mess,  and  our  cook  is  an 
Al  man. 

Thaw  and  Cowdin  had  become  expert  fight- 
ing pilots  before  the  Lafayette  Escadrille  was 
finally  assembled  on  the  Alsatian  front  in  May, 


276       AMERICAN  VOLUNTEER  AIRMEN 

1916,  and  had  seen  service  at  Verdun,  where 
Cowdin  had  brought  down  a  German  machine, 
and  by  so  doing  had  become  the  first  American 
to  win  the  Medaille  Militaire — "the  highest 
decoration,"  McConnell  calls  it,  "that  can  be 
awarded  a  non-commissioned  officer  or  private." 
Almost  before  the  members  of  the  squadron  had 
got  settled  at  Bar-le-Duc,  after  the  transfer 
from  the  Alsatian  front,  Thaw  brought  down  a 
Fokker  one  morning.  In  the  afternoon  of  the 
same  day,  however,  in  a  big  combat  far  behind 
the  German  lines,  he  was  wounded  in  the  arm. 
His  wound  bled  profusely,  but  he  succeeded  in 
landing  just  within  the  French  lines,  although 
in  a  dazed  condition.  French  soldiers  carried 
him,  too  weak  to  walk,  to  a  field  dressing- 
station,  and  from  there  he  was  sent  to  a  Paris 
hospital.  On  his  recovery  he  rejoined  the 
American  Escadrille. 

The  latest  information  concerning  him  was 
in  a  news  despatch  dated  April  24, 1918,  which 
stated  that  Major  Thaw — like  Lufbery,  he  had 
been  taken  into  the  aviation  service  of  the 
United  States  Army  with  the  rank  of  major — 
commanding  the  Lafayette  Escadrille,  had  just 


THAW,  PIONEER  AMERICAN  AVIATOR     277 

brought  down  his  fifth  enemy  plane  and  a  cap- 
tive balloon  on  the  same  day,  and  that  he  was 
thenceforth  to  be  classed  among  the  "aces"  in 
aviation  in  France.  Long  may  he  live  to  fly ! 


INDEX 


Ahern,  Dr.  William  P.,  with  Red 
Cross,  95. 

Andrew,  A.  Piatt,  in  ambulance 
service,  129-133. 

Andrews,  Philip,  in  Coldstream 
Guards,  90. 

Archer,  William,  65. 

Arrowsmith,  Robert,  with  Com- 
mittee for  Relief  in  Belgium, 
196. 

Bach,  James,  in  Foreign  Legion, 

24. 
Balsley,  Clyde,  in  aviation,  214, 

222. 
Barber,  William  M.,  in  ambulance 

service,  133,  154-156. 
Bastados,  in  Foreign  Legion,  30. 
Boligny,  Edwin,  in  Foreign  Legion, 

24. 
Bostwick,    Elmore    McNeill,    in 

ambulance  service,  157. 
Bnswell,     Leslie,     in     ambulance 

service,  140,  143-147. 
Butler,   Ethan   Flagg,   with   Red 

Cross,  99-101,  103-104. 

Campbell,  Donald,  in  Foreign 
Legion,  29. 

Capdevielle,  in  Foreign  Legion, 
24. 

Carey,  J.  J.,  in  Foreign  Legion, 
24. 

Chapman,  Victor,  14,  57;  in  For- 
eign Legion,  66-71 ;  in  aviation, 
209,  213,  214,  217-224,  236,  245, 
253. 


Clyde,  W.  P.,  in  ambulance  ser- 
vice, 159-160. 

Covalieros,  in  Foreign  Legion,  33. 

Cowdin,  Elliot  C.,  in  aviation,  207- 
209,  213,  218,  274,  275. 

Culbert,  Kenneth  P.,  in  aviation, 
266-268. 

Curtis,  Edward  D.,  with  Com- 
mittee for  Relief  in  Belgium, 
186,  187,  190-191,  192,  196. 

Delpenche,  in  Foreign  Legion,  24. 

Donovan,  Dr.  James  C.,  with  Red 
Cross,  95. 

Dowd,  Dennis,  in  Foreign  Legion, 
24. 

Downer,  Dr.  Earl  B.,  with  Red 
Cross,  103,  104. 

Drummond-Hay,  Colonel,  in  Cold- 
stream  Guards,  91. 

Elliott,  General  George  P.,  77. 
Engler,  in  Foreign  Legion,  29. 
Evans,  Frank  E.,  78. 

Farnsworth,  Henry,  13,  in  Foreign 

Legion,  27,  36,  57,  71,  119. 
Fletcher,  Horace,  in  Belgium,  188. 

Gailor,  Frank  Hoyt,  in  ambulance 

service,  148-151. 
Genet,  Edmond,    14,  in   Foreign 

Legion,  37-49;  in  aviation,  245, 

249-256,  275. 
Gibson,  Hugh.  190. 
Gray,   Prentiss,   with    Committee 

for  Relief  in  Belgium,  197. 


279 


280 


INDEX 


Gregory,  Warren,  with  Committee 
for  Relief  in  Belgium,  197. 

Hall,  B.  S.,  in  Foreign  Legion,  24. 
Hall,  Bert,  in  aviation,  209,  213. 
HaH,  Louis,  137. 
Hall,     Richard,     in     Ambulance 

Corps,  133.  135-138. 
Harjes,  H.  Herman,  158. 
Hath,  in  Foreign  Legion,  29. 
Haupt,  George  H.,  in  ambulance 

service,  157. 

Hill,  Dudley,  in  aviation,  214,  244. 
Hill,  Lovering,  in  ambulance  ser- 
vice, 161-162. 
Hollinshed,  in  ambulance  service, 

125. 
Hoover,  Herbert,  with  Committee 

for  Relief  in  Belgium,  175-180, 

189. 
Hoskier,  in  Foreign  Legion  12;  in 

ambulance  service,  125. 

Imbrie,  Andrew  C.,  79. 

Jennings,    in   ambulance    service, 

137. 
Johnson,    Ghonteau,   in   aviation, 

214. 

Kelley,  Edward  J.,  in  Ambulance 
Corps,  133. 

Kellogg,  Prof.  Vernon,  in  Belgium, 
176,  181-182.  200-202. 

King,  Clapham  P.,  with  Red 
Cross,  99. 

King,  David  W.,  in  Foreign 
Legion,  24,  25,  71. 

Kirbv-Smith,  Dr.  Raymond  M., 
with  Red  Cross,  103,  104. 

Kittredge,  Tracy  P.,  with  Com- 
mittee for  Relief  in  Belgium,  196. 

Kohn,  in  Foreign  Legion,  70. 

Lane,  Morton  P.,  with  Red  Cross, 
99. 


Lawrence,  Richard,  in  ambulance 
service,  161. 

Leach,  Dr.  Charles  N.,  with  Com- 
mittee for  Relief  in  Belgium, 
196. 

Lebrun,  Corporal,  in  Foreign  Le- 
gion, 29. 

Lipton,  Sir  Thomas,  with  Red 
Cross,  102. 

Long,  John  D.,  77. 

Lovell,  Walter,  in  aviation,  255. 

Lufbery,  Raoul,  in  aviation,  213, 
222,254. 

Lumsden,  D.,  in  Black  Watch,  80. 

Lytie,  Richard  R.,  with  Committee 
for  Relief  in  Belgium,  192,  194. 

MacCreery,  Lawrence,  in  ambu- 
lance service,  125. 

McConnell,  James  P.,  in  Amer- 
ican field  ambulance  service, 
140-143;  in  aviation,  209,  210- 
216,  239-248,  262,  264. 

McCord,  in  aviation,  244. 

Magruder,  Dr.  Ernest  P.,  with  Red 
Cross,  99,  102. 

Masson,  Didier,  in  aviation,  214. 

Matter,  in  ambulance  service,  137. 

Maurice,  Arthur  Bartlett,  with 
Committee  for  Relief  in  Bel- 
gium, 195-199. 

Maverick,  Robert  V.,  with  Com- 
mittee for  Relief  in  Belgium, 
196. 

Mignot,  144-147. 

Mitchell,  Clarence  V.  S.,  in  ambu- 
lance service,  165-171. 

Morlae,  E.,  13,  19;  in  Foreign 
Legion,  37-49. 

Morrison,  H.  D.,  Secretary,  Amer- 
ican Ambulance  Corps,  132. 

Mortens,  in  Foreign  Legion,  33. 

Mussorgsky,   in   Foreign   Legion, 


INDEX 


281 


Nicolet,  in  Foreign  Legion,  33. 

Norton,  Richard,  head  of  Ambu- 
lance Corps,  115-1528,  130,  181, 
159. 

Oakman,  Walter  G.,  in  Coldstream 

Guards,  88. 

Ogilvie,  Francis  D.,  146. 
Ohlinger,  in  Foreign  Legion,  24. 

Paradise,  Scott  Hurtt,  with  Com- 
mittee for  Relief  in  Belgium,  187. 

Phelizot,  in  Foreign  Legion,  24. 

Pierce,  Waldo,  135. 

Poe,  John  Prentiss,  in  First  Black 
Watch,  75-82,  85. 

Prince,  Norman,  in  aviation,  207- 
208,  209,  222,  231-238,  243,  245, 
253,  274. 

Rainey,  Paul,  in  ambulance  ser- 
vice, 167. 

Rockwell,  Kiffin,  in  aviation,  209, 
213,  214,  215-216,  222,  225-230, 
245,  253. 

Rumsey,  Lawrence,  in  aviation, 
214. 

Ryan,  Dr.  Edward  W.,  with  Red 
Cross,  95-98,  102,  104. 

Salisbury,  Edward  Van  D.,  in  am- 
bulance service,  139. 

Sanders,  Roswell  S.,  in  ambulance 
service,  133,  156. 

Scanlon,  Bob,  in  Foreign  Legion, 
24. 

Schroder,  Bernard  N.  P.,  in  am- 
bulance service,  144,  145. 

Seeger,  Alan,  9,  in  Foreign  Legion, 
24,  50-65,  71. 

Sperry,  William  H.,  with  Com- 
mittee for  Relief  in  Belgium, 
196,  198. 

Starr,  Dillwyn  P.,  in  Coldstream 
Guards,  83-91. 


Stockton,  Gilchrist,  with  Commit- 
tee for  Relief  hi  Belgium,  192, 
193. 

Strong,  Dr.  Richard  P.,  with  Red 
Cross,  106-112. 

Stuart,  Dr.  Edward,  with  Red 
Cross,  107. 

Subiron,  Bob,  in  Foreign  Legion, 
24. 

Suckley,  Henry  M.,  in  ambulance 
service,  133,  161-164. 

Sudic,  in  Foreign  Legion,  33. 

Sukuna,  in  Foreign  Legion,  29,  33. 

Thaw,  William,  in  Foreign  Legion, 
14-20,  24;  in  aviation,  209,  213, 
214,  269-277. 

Trinkard,  in  Foreign  Legion,  24. 

Tuck,  William  H.,  with  Committee 
for  Relief  in  Belgium,  192,  194. 

Uhlin,  hi  Foreign  Legion,  29,  30. 

Ware,  Gordon,  in  ambulance  ser- 
vice, 163,  164. 

Warren,  Robert  H.,  with  Commit- 
tee for  Relief  in  Belgium,  187. 

Wendell,  in  ambulance  service, 
125. 

Wheeler,  David  E.,  hi  Foreign 
Legion,  42,  47,  48,  49. 

Wheeler,  Walter  H.,  hi  ambulance 
service,  154-156. 

Wickes,  Francis  C.,  with  Com- 
mittee for  Relief  in  Belgium,  196. 

Winslow,  Carroll  D.,  in  aviation, 
220. 

Zampanedes,   in   Foreign   Legion, 

32. 
Zinn,  F.  W.,  in  Foreign  Legion. 

25. 
Zinn,  Wilhelm,  in  Foreign  Legion, 

25. 


University  of 


'  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 
this  material  to  the  library 
from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


OCT1719 
2  9  1994 


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A    001  176386    9 


